When my grandpa was a boy,
he went down to the general store
Saw a picture book of a whale
shooting its spout and flashin' its tail
Then he got a sailor's dream
'bout cruisin' around on the salty sea
Joinin' up with a fishin' crew
to go out and get him a whale or two
Tell me what kind of men are these
who sail upon the salty seas
Up in the rigging in the afternoon,
swabbin' the decks and sharpenin' harpoons
Hooray and up she rises
Hooray and up she rises
Hooray and up she rises
Early in the morning
Shanghaied by the light of the moon,
put out from Boston in the middle of June
After six months out at sea,
it's nothin' but death and misery
Set out on a three-year cruise,
a union ship and a union crew
And after six months you begin to see,
that whalin's not what it used to be
A modern ship and a modern crew
with sonar scopes and explodin' harpoons
A mechanical boat made outta steel,
a floating machine built to kill the whales
Hooray and up she rises
Hooray and up she rises
Hooray and up she rises
Early in the morning
There're lots of whales in the deep blue sea,
we kill them for the company
We drag 'em 'longside and chop 'em in two
and melt 'em down and sell 'em to you
There hardly is a sailor alive
who can keep the tears from his eyes
As he remembers the good old days
when there were no whales to save
Thank the Russians and Japanese
for scouring the deep blue seas
Looking for ivory and perfume
and plastic toys and pet food
Another song against whale hunting, especially with modern devastating methods for profitable reasons and for fulfilling consumers’ useless needs.