Now the whale did strike, and the line paid out,
Then the whale gave a flutter with its tail;
The boat capsized, and four gallant men were lost,
No more, no more Greenland for you, brave boys.
No more, no more Greenland for you.
In the year two-thousand twenty-five, in March the twenty-eighth day,
We launched our boat from Washington, and to Greenland sailed away.
To Greenland sailed away, brave boys.
To Greenland sailed away.
With the wife of the vice president, and three big shots on board,
We raised the stars-and-stripes to the top of the mast,
Bound for Greenland’s shore, brave boys,
Bound for Greenland’s shore.
The second lady in the cross trees stood, with a spyglass in her hand;
“There’s a whale, there’s a whale, there’s a whalefish,” she cried,
“And he blows at every span, brave boys,
And he blows at every span.”
The captain cried from the quarterdeck, with plunder in his eyes,
“Harpoon that beast, full of minerals and oil,
“She’ll make a lovely prize, brave boys,
“She’ll make a lovely prize.”
But the whale did strike, and the line paid out,
Then the whale gave a flutter with its tail;
The boat capsized, and four gallant men were lost,
And we never caught that whale, brave boys
And we never caught that whale.
“To lose those men,” the captain cried, “burns my heart full sore;
“But to lose that whale, with its minerals and oil,
“It burns me 10 times more, brave boys,
“It burns me 10 times more.”
Now Greenland is a barren place, where wind blows like a gale.
And it’s people tell you time and time again:
“Greenland is not for sale, brave boys,
“Greenland is not for sale.”
But the whale did strike, and the line paid out,
Then the whale gave a flutter with its tail;
The boat capsized, and four gallant men were lost,
No more, no more Greenland for you, brave boys,
No more, no more Greenland for you.