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.