Desolation



I will sing a little rhyme as I have a little time

About the meanest ship afloat in creation,

Her name it is the Mitchell from E town did sail (Edgartown)

And they fitted her out to go to Desolation.



Her officers are natives of old Cape Cod

The place where there is nothing to eat on,

But the product of their land is mackerel bones and sand

So they had to starve or go to Desolation.



On board of some ships they have plenty to eat

But it is here they put a stop on our ration;

It is work for nothing and find your own grub

And starve yourself to death on Desolation.



The meat on this ship once belonged to a horse

Or some of his damned near relation,

They put us on an allowance of a quarter of a pound

They could afford no more on desolation.



For fear the flour would not last for bread three times a day,

And mince pies to feed the after guard on,

They cut us short one half and says with a laugh

It's good enough for Jack on Desolation.



The captains of whalers are abolitionists

They go in for amalgamation;

A nigger or a Portuguese is treated like a man

But Americans are dogs on Desolation.



These cowards and villains, for they are such a race

They are a disgrace to all civilization.

Are our worthy friends who call themselves men

And command these prison hulks on Desolation.



For toward the end of the voyage they treat you mighty rough

They cause you trials and tribulations

For if you have any pay they would have you run away

And pocket all your earnings on Desolation.







From Gale Huntington's book- Songs the Whalemen Sang. Collected

from logbook of Bark Ocean Rover, 1859.

No tune given: could be fit to The Campanero RG

@sailor @whaling

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