Here's The Kippers' variation on the whale hunting theme, from the Trunch tradition. That's Norfolk and Good.

THE LOSING OF THE WHALE

In eighteen hundred and forty-six
On March the fourteenth day
I bought myself a calendar
For we were bound away.

We sailed from Tacky Guano
And followed they seabirds flight
For we were hunting whales, me boys,
At least we thought we might.

We sailed for three long days and nights
But saw no whales at all.
The mate went up the mast to look
While our captain went up the wall.
v

We sailed for four more days and nights
But still we had no luck,
Till a whale came up for air, me boys,
And the mate cried "Thar she suck!"

That whale she lashed her tail, me boys,
One man on deck took a glancing blow,
Bit not so bad as our captain,
For he was wounded down below.
v

No the first to throw his harpoon out
Was Valparaiso Luke.
He hit her in the tail, me boys,
But they said that was a fluke.

Now we went in with our blubber hooks
And the whale sank down below.
We caused her for to vomit, boys,
And the mate cried "Thar she throw!"

Now we hauled that whale on deck me boys,
Amid many hearty cries,
But that fish it was so huge me boys,
That our vessel did capsize.

And our captain with remorse was filled
Likewise with water too
"I'll no more hunt the whale" he cried,
"If that's the last thing I don't do."

"I'll never hunt that whale " he cried
And what's more he was right
For the hungry seas bore down on him
And carried him from our sight.

And soon likewise we all were drown'd,
None lived to tell the tale
Not one of us survived to tell
Of how we lost that whale.