Grand-Ma loved a sailor who sailed the frozen sea.
Grand-Pa was that whaler and he took me on his knee.
He said, "Son, I'm getting crazy from living on the land,
Got to find my shipmates and walk on foreign sands."

This old man was graceful, with silver in his smile.
He smoked a briar pipe and walked the country miles,
Singing songs of shady sisters and old time liberty,
Songs of love and songs of death and songs to set me free.

I've got three ships and sixty men,
A course for ports unread.
I'll stand at mast, let north winds blow,
Till half of us are dead.

Land ho!

Well, if I get my hands on a dollar bill,
Gonna buy a bottle and drink my fill,
If I get my hands on a number five,
Gonna skin that little girl alive.

If I get my hands on a number two,
Come back and marry you,
Marry you,
Marry you,
All right!

Land ho!