Songs:Whiskey John (94346)
From WWR
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Trivia, story behind the song, etc.
Lyrics
Whiskey John by Mike Campbell 1993 Come sit down me lads and I'll tell you the tale Of a man named Whiskey John. He was six feet eight from toes to pate, A harpooner big and strong. We sailed together on the Marilyn Kay, To the whaling grounds in Scammon's Bay, Where we had what's called a very bad day, Poor old Whiskey John. While we pulled at the oars, John stood at the bow, Getting ready to throw at a whale. 'Fore he could begin the boat we were in, Was smashed by a bloody great tail, It was into the drink for my mates and I But John, he flew up into the sky, Couldn't believe that he went so high, Poor old Whiskey John. John, John, John, John, poor old Whiskey John. Then he clapped his hands as he flew through the air, Praying, "Lord, where am I bound?" And he landed flat on a whale's broad back, And made such a sickening sound. For his foot got stuck in the whale's spout, Try though he did, he couldn't pull it out, We knew he would drown and we had no doubt, Poor old Whiskey John. We could tell real quick that the whale was mad, By the splash and the foam that he made, John flipped all around like a circus clown, With cuss words all the way, That whale he thrashed with all his soul, But he could not dive or even roll, Not with a foot jammed in his hole. Lucky Whiskey John. John, John, John, John, poor old Whiskey John. Then the whale swam hard for the sandy shore, With murder on his mind. He turned at last with a mighty blast, And the two were no longer entwined. John skipped on the water and hit the sand, Couldn't believe that he made dry land, Stood there shaking his head in his hand, Poor old Whiskey John. Then with a turn of his flukes that angry whale, Came scooting up over the shore, John's eyes bugged out and he let go a shout, When he found he was in for more. He turned and ran with all his might, Babbled like a babe and his hair turned white, The whale kept chasing him clean out of sight. Poor old Whiskey John. John, John, John, John, poor old Whiskey John. Well we found old John the very next day, he was ten miles in from the sea. That nasty whale had chased him there, Then run him up a tree. Well we called to John but he wouldn't come down, Screamed when we dragged him to the ground, Figured that his clock had come unwound, Poor old Whiskey John. Now the moral to you whaler men, Who hear this tale of mine, Be careful when you hunt them whales, Across the salty brine. If you piss one off then you might be, In a similar sort of misery, High in the branches of a tree, Just like Whiskey John. John, John, John, John, poor old Whiskey John. John, John, John, John, poor old Whiskey John.
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Listener rankings: 5 stars=Hexaba ♦ Dale G ♦ Kazookid 4 stars=sparx 3 stars=Kelli |
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