Home of the Whale
OWEN FRANCIS HAND
Oh my love, he works upon the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes and he sets the sail
While southwards he roams to the home of the whale
And he never thinks of me far behind
Or the torments that rage in my mind
He is mine for only part of the year
Then I'm left all alone with only my tears
All ye ladies that smell of white rose
Thank ye for your perfume to wear on my gold
Thank ye all the wives and the babies that yearn
For the man never returns from hunting the sperm
Oh my love, he works upon the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes and he sets the sail
While southwards he roams to the home of the whale