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Hullfish's "Canaller's Songbook" (1984) offers these words without an indicated source:

                         The Er-i-e

We were forty-nine miles from Albany,
Forget it I never shall.
What a terrible storm we had that night
On the Er-i-e Canal.

    Oh! the Er-i-e was a rising,
    And the gin was a getting low.
    And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
    'Til we get to Buffalo-o-o,
    'Til we get to Buffalo.

We were loaded down with barley,
We were chocked up full of rye,
And the Captain he looked down at me
With his Gol-durned wicked eye.

Our cook she was a grand old gal,
She wore a ragged dress
We hoisted her upon the mast,
As a signal of distress.

Lay Me on the horse-bridge,
With my feet up toward the bow,
And let it be a Lockport Laker
Or a Tonawanda scow.

Our Nell has got the blind staggers,
And Maude has got the heaves,
Black Tom has thrown his off-shoe,
And our driver's got the weaves.

Two days out from Syracuse
The vessel struck a shoal,
And we like to all been foundered,
On a chunk of Lackawanna coal.

I hollered to the driver,
On the towpath, treadin' dirt,
He jumped aboard and stopped the leak,
With his old red flannel shirt.

As we got into Buffalo,
It was but four o'clock,
The very firest man we chanced to meet,
Was Gilson on the dock.

Well, our Captain he got married,
And our cook she went to jail,
And I'm the only son-of-a-sea-cook,
That's left to tell the tale.