New York Girls

As I walked down the Broadway
One evening in July
I met a maid who asked me trade
And a sailor John says I

And away, you santee,
My dear Annie
Oh, you New York girls
Can’t you dance the Polka?

To Tiffany’s I took her
I did not mind expense
I bought her two gold earrings
And they cost me fifteen cents

Says she, “You Limejuice sailor
Now see me home you may”
But when we reached her cottage door
She this to me did say

“My flash man he’s a Yankee
With his hair cut short behind
He wears a pair of long sea-boots
And he sails in the Blackball Line

He’s homeward bound this evening
And with me he will stay
So get a move on, sailor-boy
Get cracking on your way”

So I kissed her hard and proper
Afore her flash man came
And fare ye well, me Bowery gal
I know your little game

I wrapped me glad rags round me
And to the docks did steer
I’ll never court another maid
I’ll stick to rum and beer

I joined a Yankee blood-boat
And sailed away next morn
Don’t ever fool around with gals
You’re safer off Cape Horn

Erie Canal Song

We were forty miles from Albany
Forget it I never shall.
What a terrible storm we had one night
On the E-ri-e Canal.

Oh, the E-ri-e was a-rising
And the gin was a-gettin’ low.
And I scarcely think we’ll get a drink
’Till we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o
’Till we get to Buffalo.

We were loaded down with barley
We were chock-full up on rye.
The captain he looked down at me
With his gol-durned wicked eye.

Two days out from Syracuse
The vessel struck a shoal;
We like to all be foundered
On a chunk o’ Lackawanna coal.

We hollered to the captain
On the towpath, treadin’ dirt
He jumped on board and stopped the leak
With his old red flannel shirt.

The cook she was a grand old gal
Stood six foot in her socks.
Had a foot just like an elephant
And her breath would open locks.

The wind begins to whistle
The waves begin to roll
We had to reef our royals
On that ragin’ canal.

The cook came to our rescue
She had a ragged dress;
We h’isted her upon the pole
As a signal of distress.

When we got to Syracuse
Off-mule, he was dead;
The nigh mule got blind staggers
We cracked him on the head.

The cook is in the Police Gazette
The captain went to jail;
And I’m the only son-of-a-gub
That’s left to tell the tale.

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