Dedication
To the windward he lay.
We hauled up ’longside,
And he showed us fair play.
We caused him to vomit,
Thick blood for to spout,
And in less than ten minutes
We rolled him “fin out.”
We towed him alongside
With many a shout,
That day cut him in,
And began to boil out.
Oh, now he’s all boiled out
And stowed down below,
We ‘re waiting to hear ’em,
Sing out, “There she blows!”
It is extremely doubtful if the Dago sailors and foreign ‘longshoremen, who now make such a large portion of the crews of the Arctic steam whalers, are capable of even such rude verse as this, and the poetry of the whale fishery is now as extinct as the glory of Nantucket and the sea flavor of New Bedford. Like some greater things it may be regretted, but cannot be recovered.