The Pogues

In eighteen hundred and forty-six
On March the eighteenth day
We hoisted our colors to the top of the mast
And for Greenland sailed away, brave boys
And for Greenland sailed away
The lookout in the crosstrees stood
With spyglass in his hand
There's a whale, there's a whale
And a whalefish he cried
And she blows at every span, brave boys
She blows at every span
The captain stood on the quarter deck
The ice was in his eye
Overhaul, overhaul! Let your gibsheets fall
And you'll put your boats to sea, brave boys
And you'll put your boats to sea