> Danny Spooner > Songs > The Wounded Whale

The Wounded Whale

[ Roud 2004 ; Ballad Index SWMS023 ; Mudcat 99752 ; trad. / Archie Fisher]

Joanna C. Colcord: Songs of American Sailormen

Archie Fisher sang The Wounded Whale in 1976 on his Folk-Legacy album The Man With a Rhyme. He noted:

Collated from two versions in Gale Huntington’s Songs the Whalemen Sang, taken from the logs of the Maria (1846) and the Uncas (1843). The melody is a filleted, Dundee-influenced hybrid.

The song first came to my notice when I was browsing through Albe Dawson’s library. I was very moved by the detailed and compassionate description of the kill, and borrowed the book so that I could just let the song sink in slowly over a period of time. Forgive the “lump in my throat” style of singing over the last few verses.

Fairport Concention sang The Wounded Whale on their 1990 album The Five Seasons.

Steve Turner sang The Wounded Whale in 1984 on his Fellside album Eclogue.

Danny Spooner sang The Wounded Whale The Wounded Whale on his 2006 CD of songs of the whaling industry, The Great Leviathan. He noted:

In his book Songs the Whalemen Sang (Dover 1970), Gale Huntington notes that this appeared in two whale ship log books, those of the Dartmouth of New Bedford 1836 and the Uncas of New Bedford 1843. The versions vary slightly but it is one of the most moving and powerful songs from the 19^th century whaling industry and probably my main influence in making this CD. It also appears as There She Blows in Joanna C. Colcord’s book Songs of the American Sailormen. I first heard it from the singing of a dear friend, Gordon McIntyre. Archie Fisher crafted the tune.

Lyrics

Archie Fisher sings The Wounded Whale

Lo, as the sun from her ocean bed was rising,
Broad on the water her glittering light throws,
Hark, from the masthead our lookouts are crying:
“’Tis hard on your lee beam, a whale, thar she blows”

Call up your sleepers, your larboard and starboardmen;
Main yard aback and your boats clear away,
For hard on our lee beam see the white water gleam,
Glittering and foaming in glorious array.

See the Leviathan in vastness is lying,
Making the ocean her sumptuous bed,
While high overhead the sea birds are flying,
Combing the billows that break o’er her head.

High, wide and swimming, her dark flukes are flying;
Stately, but slowly, she sinks in the main.
Peak all your oars awhile, rest from your weary toil,
Watching and waiting her rising again.

Row, hearties, row for the pride of your nation;
Spring to your oars, let the reeking sweat flow!
Now for the blood, let it have circulation,
Forward on your thwarts, give away all you know.

See how the boats advance, gaily, as to a dance,
Floating like feathers over the dark blue sea.
Stand up and give her some, send both your irons ho me.
Stern off and trim your boat; we are all clear.

Wounded and sore, fins and flukes in commotion,
Blackskin and oars contending the spray,
While loud, long and shrill blows the horn of the ocean.
Fretting and lost, she brings to in dismay.

Haul line, every man, and gather in all you can.
Lances and spades from your thwarts clear away.
Now peak your oars again while fast each boat remains,
For, safely and surely, we hold her at bay.

Surrounded by foes, with strength undiminished,
Heed how she flashes her dark flukes in the air!
A lance in the life, and the struggle is finished;
See how she sinks with her chimney on fire.

While so loud and shrill are the cries from our seamen,
Mocking the whale in her terrible hour.
Watch her as she dies; see, the blue signal flies.
Here she goes “fin out”. The contest is o’er.

Danny Spooner sings The Wounded Whale

Low as the sun from the ocean bed is rising,
Clear on the waters a glimmering light throws;
Now from the masthead the lookouts are crying,
“Clear on yer lee-beam, a whale, thar she blows.”

Wake all your sleepers, your larboard and your starboard men,
Main-yard a-back, and yer boats clear away,
Hard on our lee-beam, see the wide waters gleam,
Foaming, and billowing, in glorious array.

Now see old leviathan in vastness a-lying
Making of the ocean a sumptuous bed,
While high above him the seabirds are flying
Combing each billow that he breaks with his head.

High, wide and swimming, great flukes gently driving,
Stately and slowly he sinks in the main.
Now peak your oars awhile, rest from your weary toil,
Watching and waiting his rise once again.

Now row hearties row for the pride of your nation,
Lean on yer oars and let the reeking sweat flow.
Now for the blood let it have circulation,
Forward, on your thwarts, give way all ye know.

Now see how our boats advance, bravely and dancing
Flying like feathers over the dark blue main,
Harpooner, stand, give him some, send both your irons home.
Stern all, trim the boat, let the line run free.

Gallied and sore, fins and flukes in commotion,
Black skin and boats contending the spray,
While loud and shrill screams the horn of the ocean,
Wounded and lost, he brings to in dismay.

Now, haul line every man, gather in all you can,
Lances and spades from the thwarts clear away;
Now peak your oars again while fast each boat remains,
Safely and surely, we’ll hold him at bay.

Wounded and lost but with strength undiminished,
See how he lashes his great flukes in the air,
But a lance in the life and the struggle is finished,
See now he sinks, with his chimney on fire.

Now loud and shrill hear the cries of our sailors,
Mocking the whale in his terrible hour,
Watch him as he dies, see the blue signal flies.
Here he goes, “fin out,” the contest is o’er.