The Barentsz

You’re up to your neck

In the blubber and blood

And you’ve given up praying

It’s done you no good

You steady yourself

Stand up to the gale

When you sail on the Barentsz

Hunting the whale

Four to a cabin

You own filthy cot

Your boots and your clobber

Are all that you got

Out on the deck

Twelve hours a day

Feeding the kettles

And fighting the spray

And the bonus

Is driving you on

The bonus

Will make you a man

You don’t feel any pain

Don’t care for the cold

When you’ve thousands of barrels

Of oil in the hold

The man at the gun

He fires the harpoon

Aims for the heart

We’ll haul her in soon

We cut off the fins

Put our mark on the tail

You’re counting the barrels

Hunting the whale

You keep your mouth shut

Do what you’re told

As the meat is cut up and

Fed to the hold

Where the lads down below

They cook and they boil

Their devils machines

Turn the catch into oil

Heading back home

When the season is done

You’ve finished your quota

And winter has come

The old wooden decking

Is flung overboard

Grease in the grain

And soaking in blood

And the bonus

Is driving you on

The bonus

Will make you a man

You don’t feel any pain

Don’t care for the cold

When you’ve thousands of barrels

Of oil in the hold

The bonus

Won’t set you free

You’re a slave to the bonus

And a slave to the sea

Your sign up again

When the new season comes

And go chasing the bonus

Till whaling is done