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We set sail on a august day.
Said our goodbyes as we went away.
Say a prayer for the whaling men.
For many leave and never seen again.

Set a course for the Artic sea.
North by northwest, 60 degrees.
Through the waves under northern lights.
And we steer the wheel by the stars at night.

We're on our way at last.
Sail to the past.
From blood red sea, it calls to me.
We send our ships out, one by one.
Because we hunt the whale.

Our wives are widows with fatherless sons.
Because we hunt the whale.
You have the oil for your lanterns to burn.
Because we hunt the whale.

But from icy seas, we may never return.
Because we hunt the whale.
Set a watch for the telltale sign.
A spray in the air, misty fine.

Quickly lowering the whaling boats.
Oars in the water, begin to row.
Till we're close enough to strike it's heart.
A spear in the air, a deadly dart.
Hearts beating to the pounding drum.
And the chase is on to the rising sun.

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