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ROW, MY LOVE, ROW (NORFOLK WHALERS) (Harry Robertson) cho: Row, my love, row and bring back to me The king of the ocean, the prize of the sea. High on the clifftops of Norfolk's sweet isle The women and children were watching the while. Far down below the whaleboatmen row, As after the humpback the northern men go. The men on the boats strain hard at the oars, As they head for the whale and away from the shores. High in the bow the harpoon men stand, The steel-shafted harpoon held tight in his hands. It's "ship your oars, lads, and quiet as we go" The harpoon sinks deep and the blood starts to flow. Hell-fire and fury break out on the waves, One slip of his tail will mean watery graves. At last the whale drags the boat o'er the sea But tires from his efforts the lines to break free. Exhausted at last he floats in the sun Sharp lances complete what the harpoon has done. It's back to the island will be a long row, Should darkness come down then the lanterns will glow. High on the clifftops the islanders stand And watch for the whalemen to return to the land. With backs nearly broken and blistered hands sore The whalemen at last reach the land's rocky shore. The joy of friends' faces a pleasure to see As they welcome them home with the prize of the sea. Sung by David Jones @whaling @sailor @work filename[ ROWLOVE RG |
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