Capstan, Windlass, and Pumping Shanties

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

John Cherokee

---

Lyrics from Songs of American Sailormen, by Joanna Colcord

John Cherokee was an Indian man, Alabama, John Cherokee! He run away every time he can, Alabama, John Cherokee! Way ay yah! Alabama, John Cherokee! Way ay yah! Alabama, John Cherokee! They put him aboard a Yankee ship, Again he gave the boss the slip. They catch him again and chain him tight, And starve him many days and nights. He have nothing to drink and nothing to eat, So he just gone dead at the boss's feet. So they bury him by the old gate post, And the day he died, you can see his ghost.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Homeward Bound
a.,k.a. Good-Bye, Fare You Well

The homeward-bound shanty "Good-bye, Fare You Well" was sung at the capstan. Stan Hugill calls it "the most popular homeward-bound shanty of them all."
Lyrics from Iron Men & Wooden Ships, by Frank Shay
Oh, fare you well, I wish you well!
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
Oh, fare you well, my bonny young lassies,
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

Oh, don't you hear our old man say
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
We're homeward bound this very day?
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

We're homeward bound, and I hear the sound,
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
So heave the capstan and make it spin round.
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

Our anchor's aweigh and our sails they are set,
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
And the gels we are leaving we leave with regret.
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

She's a flash clipper packet and bound for to go;
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
With the gels on the tow-rope she cannot say no.
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Shanghai Brown

As sung by Holdstock & Murphy on San Francisco Shanties and Sea Songs of California's Gold Rush
When first I went to Frisco boys, I went upon a spree,
My hard earned cash I spent it fast, I got drunk as drunk could be,
Before me money was all gone, or spent on some old whore,
I made up me mind and was well inclined to go to sea no more.

No more, no more, To go to sea no more,
I made up me mind and was well inclined to go to sea no more.

That night I spent with Sally Brown too drunk to roll in bed,
Me clothes was new me money was too, in the morn with them she fled.
A feeling sick I left the house and went down to the shore.
There I went me head all bend and the crimps at me did roar.

Did roar, did roar, the crimps at me did roar.
There I went, me head all bent and the crimps at me did roar.

The first chap I ran afoul of was Mr. Shanghai Brown.
Well I asked him neat if he'd stand the treat; he looks me up and down.
He said "The last time yer was paid off you chalked me up no score.
But I'll give yes a chance and I'll take yer advance, and send yer to sea once more."

Once more, once more, I'll send you to sea once more,
I'll give yes a chance and I'll take yer advance, and I'll send yer to sea once more."

They shipped me aboard of a whaling ship bound for the Arctic Sea.
Where them cold winds blow and the ice and snow would even make Jamaica rum freeze.
I had no clothes I had no gear, me money spent on a whore,
T'was then I swore that when on shore I'd go to sea no more.

No more, no more, I'd go to sea no more,
T'was then I swore that when on shore I'd go to sea no more.

Some times we caught them sperm whales boys and sometimes we caught none.
With a twenty-foot oar stuck in yer paw you pulled the whole day long,
And when the night it came around and yer nodded on your oar,
A man must be blind to make up his mind to go to sea once more.

Once more, once more, To go to sea once more,
A man must be blind to make up his mind to go to sea once more.

So come all you bully sailor lads and listen to me song.
If you listen to me I'll tell to you and let you know what went wrong.
Take my advice don't drink strong rum nor go drinking with no whore.
Get married instead and spend all night in bed and go to sea no more.

No more, no more, and go to sea no more,
Get married instead and spend all night in bed and go to sea no more.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Heave Away
a.k.a We're All Bound To Go
Lyrics from Iron Men & Wooden Ships, by Frank Shay
Oh, as I walked down the Landing Stage
All on a summer's morn,
Heave away, my Johnnies, heave away!
It's there I spied an Irish girl
A-looking all forlorn,
And away, my Johnnie boys,
We're all bound to go!

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Tapscott,"
"Good morning, my girl," said he.
Heave away, my Johnnies, heave away!
"Have you got a packet ship
to carry my across the sea?"
And away, my Johnnie boys,
We're all bound to go!

"Oh, yes I have a clipper ship,
She's called the Henry Clay";
Heave away, my Johnnies, heave away!
"She sails away at break of day,
She sails to-day for Boston Bay."
And away, my Johnnie boys,
We're all bound to go!

"Oh, will you take me to Boston Bay
When she sails away at break of day?"
Heave away, my Johnnies, heave away!
"I want to marry a Yankee boy,
And I'll cross the sea no more."
And away, my Johnnie boys,
We're all bound to go!

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Homeward Bound
a.,k.a. Good-Bye, Fare You Well

The homeward-bound shanty "Good-bye, Fare You Well" was sung at the capstan. Stan Hugill calls it "the most popular homeward-bound shanty of them all."
Lyrics from Iron Men & Wooden Ships, by Frank Shay
Oh, fare you well, I wish you well!
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
Oh, fare you well, my bonny young lassies,
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

Oh, don't you hear our old man say
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
We're homeward bound this very day?
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

We're homeward bound, and I hear the sound,
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
So heave the capstan and make it spin round.
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

Our anchor's aweigh and our sails they are set,
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
And the gels we are leaving we leave with regret.
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

She's a flash clipper packet and bound for to go;
Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!
With the gels on the tow-rope she cannot say no.
Hurray, my boys, we're homeward bound!

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

John Cherokee

Lyrics from Songs of American Sailormen, by Joanna Colcord
John Cherokee was an Indian man,
Alabama, John Cherokee!
He run away every time he can,
Alabama, John Cherokee!
Way ay yah!
Alabama, John Cherokee!
Way ay yah!
Alabama, John Cherokee!

They put him aboard a Yankee ship,
Again he gave the boss the slip.

They catch him again and chain him tight,
And starve him many days and nights.

He have nothing to drink and nothing to eat,
So he just gone dead at the boss's feet.

So they bury him by the old gate post,
And the day he died, you can see his ghost.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

John Kanaka

A considerable trade has been carried on for several years between California and the Sandwich Islands, and most of the vessels are manned with Islanders; who, as they, for the most part, sign no articles, leave whenever they choose, and let themselves out to cure hides at San Diego, and to supply the places of the men of the American vessels while on the coast. In this way, quite a colony of them had become settled at San Diego, as their headquarters....
During the four months that I lived here, I got well acquainted with all of them, and took the greatest pains to become familiar with their language, habits, and characters. Their language, I could only learn, orally, for they had not any books among them, though many of them had been taught to read and write by the missionaries at home. They spoke a little English, and by a sort of compromise, a mixed language was used on the beach, which could be understood by all. The long name of Sandwich Islanders is dropped, and they are called by the whites, all over the Pacific ocean, "Kanákas," from a word in their own language which they apply to themselves, and to all South Sea Islanders, in distinction from whites, whom they call "Haole." This name, "Kanaka," they answer to, both collectively and individually. Their proper names, in their own language, being difficult to pronounce and remember, they are called by any names which the captains or crews may choose to give them. Some are called after the vessel they are in; others by common names, as Jack, Tom, Bill.... But by whatever names they might be called, they were the most interesting, intelligent, and kind-hearted people that I ever fell in with. I felt a positive attachment for almost all of them; and many of them I have, to this time, a feeling for, which would lead me to go a great way for the mere pleasure of seeing them, and which will always make me feel a strong interest in the mere name of a Sandwich Islander.

-Richard Henry Dana, Jr., Two Years Before the Mast
As sung by Holdstock & Murphy on San Francisco Shanties and Sea Songs of California's Gold Rush
I thought I heard the old man say,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
There's work tomorrow but no work today.
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.

Tulai-ae, oh, tulai-ae,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.

We're bound away from 'Frisco Bay,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
We're bound away at the break of day.
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.

Tulai-ae, oh, tulai-ae,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.

It's just one thing that grieves my mind,
To leave my wife and child behind.

They'll wave farewell down on the key,
They'll wait and fear and weep for me.

We're bound away around Cape Horn,
Where you'll wish to Christ you'd never been born.

The bosun said before I'm through,
You'll curse your mother for havin' you.

It's rotten wheat and weevily bread,
And it's pump or drown, the old man said.

It's one more pull, and that'll do,
And we're the bullies for to pull her through.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Johnny Come Down to Hilo

As sung by Captain Jesse Schaffer
Ain't seen the like since I've been born,
An Arkansas farmer with his sea boots on.

Johnny come down to Hilo, poor old man.
So wake her! shake her! wake that gal with the blue dress on.
Johnny come down to Hilo, poor old man.

I got a gal across the sea,
She's a 'Badian beauty and she says to me.

Sally's in the garden picking' peas,
Hair on her head hanging down to her knees.

My wife died in Tennessee,
They sent her jawbone back to me.

I set that jawbone on the fence,
And I ain't heard nothing but the jawbone since.

So hand me down my riding cane,
I'm off to see Miss Sarah Jane.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Get Up, Jack! John, Sit Down!

Lyrics from American Ballads & Folk Songs by John and Alan Lomax

"This song was sung and written down by John Thomas, a Welsh sailor on the Philadelphian, in 1896."
Oh, the ships will come and the ships will go,
As long as the waves do roll:
The sailor lad, likewise his dad,
He loves the flowing bowl:
A lass ashore we do adore,
One that is plump and round, round, round.
When the money is gone, it's the same old song,
Get up, Jack! John, sit down!

Singing, Hey! laddie, ho! laddie,
Swing the capstan 'round, 'round, 'round
When the money is gone it's the same old song,
Get up, Jack! John, sit down!

[I] go and take a trip in a man-o'-war
To China or Japan,
In Asia, there are ladies fair
Who love the sailorman.
When Jack and Joe palavers, O,
And buy the girls a gown, gown, gown.
When the money is gone it's the same old song,
Get up, Jack! John, sit down!

When Jack is ashore he beats his way
Towards some boarding-house:
He's welcome in with his rum and gin,
And he's fed with pork and s[c]ouse:
For he'll spend and spend and never offend,
But he'll lay drunk on the ground, ground, ground:
When my money is gone it's the same old song:
Get up, Jack! John, sit down!

When Jack is old and weatherbeat,
Too old to roustabout,
In some rum-shop they'll let him stop,
At eight bells he's turned out.
Then he cries, he cries up to the skies:
"I'll soon be homeward bound, bound, bound."
When my money is gone it's the same old song:
Get up, Jack! John, sit down!

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

The Liverpool Girls

Lyrics from Capstan Bars, by David Bone
When I was a youngster I sailed with th' rest
On a Liverpool packet bound out to th' west.
We anchored a day in the harbour o' Cork,
Then put out to sea for th' port o' New York.

An' it's Ho! Ro! Ho, bullies, ho!
Th' Liverpool Gir-ils have got us in tow.

For thirty-two days we wos hungry an' sore.
Th' wind wos agin us an' gales they did roar;
But at Battery Point we did anchor at last,
Wit' th' jib-boom hove in an' th' canvas all fast.

Th' boardin' house masters was off in a trice,
An' shoutin' an' promisin' all that was nice;
An' one fat old crimp he got cotton to me,
An' said I wos foolish t' follow th' sea.

Ses he, "There's a job as is waitin' for you,
Wid lashins o' likker an' nothin' t' do.
Now, what d'ye say, lad, will you jump her too?"
Ses I, "Ye old beggar, I'm damned if I do!"

But th' best ov intentions they never goes far,
After thirty-two days, at th' door ov a bar.
I tossed off me likker an' what do ye think?
The dirty ould rascal had drugs in me drink.

Th' next I remimber, I woke in th' morn
In a three skysail yarder boun' south roun' th' Horn.
With an ould suit o' oilskins, an' two pair o' sox,
An' a floorin' o' bricks at th' foot av me box.

Now all ye young sailors take warnin' by me,
Keep watch on y'er drink when th' likker is free,
An' pay no attintion t' runner or whore,
When y'er hat's on y'er head an' y'er foot's on th' shore.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Leave Her Johnny

Lyrics from Iron Men & Wooden Ships, by Frank Shay
I thought I heard the skipper say,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
To-morrow you will get your pay,
It's time for us to leave her.

The work was hard, the voyage was long,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
The seas were high, the gales were strong,
It's time for us to leave her.

The food was bad, the wages low,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
But now ashore again we'll go,
It's time for us to leave her.

The sails are furled, our work is done,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
And now on shore we'll have our fun,
It's time for us to leave her.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

The Lowlands

Lyrics from Iron Men & Wooden Ships, by Frank Shay
Lowlands, lowlands, away, my John,
Oh, my old mother she wrote to me,
My dollar and a half a day,
She wrote to me to come home from sea,
Lowlands, lowlands, away, my John.
She wrote to me to come home from sea,
My dollar and a half a day.

Lowlands, lowlands, away, my John,
A dollar a day is a Hoosier's pay,
My dollar and a half a day,
Yes, a dollar a day is a Hoosier's pay
Lowlands, lowlands, away, my John.
Yes, a dollar a day is a Hoosier's pay.
My dollar and a half a day.

Lowlands, lowlands, away, my John,
Oh, was you ever in Mobile Bay,
My dollar and a half a day,
A-screwing cotton by the day?
Lowlands, lowlands, away, my John!
A-screwing cotton by the day.
My dollar and a half a day.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

The Maid of Amsterdam

Lyrics as sung by Paul Clayton on Whaling And Sailing Songs
In Amsterdam there lived a maid,
Mark well what I do say!
In Amsterdam there lived a maid,
Who was always pinchin' the sailor's trade.
I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

A rovin', a rovin',
Since rovin's been my ru-i-in,
I'll go no more a roving,
With you fair maid!

I took this maiden for a walk,
Mark well what I do say!
I took this maiden for a walk,
She wanted some gin and didn't she talk.
I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

A rovin', a rovin',
Since rovin's been my ru-i-in,
I'll go no more a roving,
With you fair maid!

She said, "You sailors I love you so,"
Mark well what I do say!
"All you sailors, I love you so,"
And the reason why I soon did know.
I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

A rovin', a rovin',
Since rovin's been my ru-i-in,
I'll go no more a roving,
With you fair maid!

She placed her hand upon my knee,
Mark well what I do say!
She placed her hand upon my knee,
I said "Young miss, you're rather free."
I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

A rovin', a rovin',
Since rovin's been my ru-i-in,
I'll go no more a roving,
With you fair maid!

I gave this miss a parting kiss,
Mark well what I do say!
I gave this miss a parting kiss,
When I got aboard my money I missed.
I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

A rovin', a rovin',
Since rovin's been my ru-i-in,
I'll go no more a roving,
With you fair maid!