It's documented in Melville's original draft of "Mocha Dick", based on the story of the Essex:

"The mate was silent. His yarn was reeled off. His story was told; and with far better tact than is exhibited by many a modern orator, he had the modesty and discretion to stop with its termination. In response, a glass of "o-be-joyful" went merrily round; and this tribute having been paid to courtesy, the vanquisher of Mocha Dick was unanimously called upon for a song. Too sensible and too good-natured to wait for a second solicitation, when he had the power to oblige, he took a "long pull" and a strong, at the grog as an appropriate overture to the occasion, and then, in a deep, sonorous tone, gave us the following professional ballad, accompanied by a superannuated hand-organ, which constituted the musical portion of the cabin furniture:

I.

"Don't bother my head about catching of seals!
To me there's more glory in catching of eels;
Give me a tight ship, and under snug sail,
And I ask for no more, 'long side the sperm whale,
In the Indian Ocean,
Or Pacific Ocean,
No matter what ocean;
Pull ahead, yo heave O!

II.

"When our anchor's a-peak, sweethearts and wives
Yield a warm drop at parting, breathe a prayer for our lives;
With hearts full of promise, they kiss off the tear
From the eye that grows rarely dim -- never with fear!
Then for the ocean, boys,
The billow's commotion, boys,
That's our devotion, boys,
Pull ahead, yo heave O!

III.

"Soon we hear the glad cry of 'Town O! -- there she blows!'
Slow as night, my brave fellows, to leeward she goes:
Hard up! square the yards! then steady, lads, so!
Cries the captain, 'My maiden lance soon shall she know!'
Now we get near, boys,
In with the gear, boys,
Swing the cranes clear, boys;
Pull ahead, yo heave O!

IV.

"Our boat's in the water, each man at his oar
Bends strong to the sea, while his bark bounds before,
As the fish of all sizes, still flouncing and blowing,
With fluke and broad fin, scorn the best of hard rowing:
Hang to the oar, boys,
Another stroke more, boys;
Now line the oar, boys;
Pull ahead, yo heave O!

V.

"Then rises long Tom, who never knew fear;
Cries the captain, 'Now nail her, my bold harpooner!'
He speeds home his lance, then exclaims, 'I am fast!'
While blood, in a torrent, leaps high as the mast:
Starn! starn! hurry, hurry, boys!
She's gone in her flurry, boys,
She'll soon be in 'gurry', boys!
Pull ahead, yo heave O!

VI.

"Then give me a whaleman, wherever he be,
Who fears not a fish that can swim the salt sea;
Then give me a tight ship, and under snug sail,
And last lay me 'side of the noble sperm whale;
In the Indian ocean,
Or Pacific ocean,
Not matter what ocean
Pull ahead, yo heave O!"

The song "died away into an echo", and we all confessed ourselves delighted with it -- save and except the gallant knight of the seal-club. He indeed allowed the lay and the music to be well enough, considering the subject; but added: "If you want to hear genuine, heart-stirring harmony, you must listen to a rookery of fur seal. For many an hour, on the rocks round Cape Horn, have I sat thus, listening to these gentry, as they clustered on the shelving cliffs above me; the surf beating at my feet, while--"

"Come, come, my old fellow!" exclaimed the captain, interrupting the loquacious sealer; "you forget the evening you are to have at Santa Maria. It is three o'clock in the morning, and more." Bidding farewell to our social and generous entertainers, we were soon safely on board our ship, when we immediately made all sail to the north."

You can find the rest of this wondrous tale over here.

Regards,

A