May the harpoon rust, may the cold steel be gone May the seas all be clear where whalefishes run May hook, knife, dart and line all be lost in the brine May the blood on the sails all be fishermen's tales May the whalesmen's breathe no more hang like the mist May he never face danger nor take any risk May boat, gun, oar and mast all be lost in the frost May the blood on the sails all be fishermen's tales May the women on shore never have any fears May smiles touch the cheeks that once ran with tears May ship, deck, rope and bells all grow cockle shells May the blood on the sails all be fishermen's tales May the seas ne'er be red where whalefishes bled Nor shine like the wine when the whalefish is dead May fleets, planksheds and quays all be lost in the seas And the blood on the sails all be fishermen's tales