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Crossing the Line

by Forty Degrees South

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Songs of the southern oceans - 22 tracks

    Comes in cardboard sleeve with printed 8 page booklet

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1.
I left New Bedford and my home ... Whaling in the South Pacific After sperm whales we did roam ... On the Middle Ground I left my family and my friends The Californian now sends me To the ocean’s furthest ends ... On the Middle Ground From Rio south around Cape Horn … New set sails in tatters torn … The work is hard, the pleasures few The water cold, the food is too They feed us slush and call it stew … From New Zealand’s icy gales … Northward then we bend our sails … Until we reach that rocky pile The thought of it still makes me smile Landed safe on Norfolk’s Isle … Wettles there we took on board … Salted beef and bacon stored … Plaintain, porpai, figs a treat Guava, corn and taties sweet Better food you’ll never eat … The captain’s wife has gone ashore … We’ll be here a few weeks more … Cruising in the winter sun Right whales on their northern run The largest bull tryed out twelve ton … The Norfolk men have joined the crew … Better boat steerers are few … We say farewell to the girls on shore, Their open smiles we’ll see no more We’ll be gone three years or four From the Middle Ground From the Middle Ground
2.
Farewell to my native shore ... I’m leaving you today Farewell to the woman that I adore ... Van Diemen’s Land awaits me Love and home lie to the rear ... I’m leaving you today The William Metcalf is so dear ... Van Diemen’s Land awaits me Chorus: Oh the wind and the waves The deep ocean swell The winds are of change and The waves are farewell Now my lot is five-foot square … Five men my misery to share … Blessed relief of time on deck … Clinking chains keep us in check … God’s wonders are on display … Turtles, whales and dolphins play … On the Roaring Forties albatross glide … Creation’s joys leave me inspired … One hundred days and still 12 more … At last we sight Van Diemen’s shore … Mountain towers o’er Hobart Town … Sullivan’s Cove my journey’s done …
3.
Don’t take a trip like this me boys don’t sail across the sea, For to Botany Bay I’m headed and I’m chained in misery. Chorus: Oh the whaling barque is rolling bad it makes our irons clang, As we pitch across the ocean for to join the prison gang. It was on a cold and moonlit night the frost lay all around, His lordship’s keepers beat me ’til I fell upon the ground. They took the rabbit I had caught to feed me child at home, For fourteen years the judge he said my sins I must atone. They took me from the dungeon on to a whaling barque, And with rats and roaches now I sail and savage bureaucrats. Oh Mother England’s clever and her business methods stark, For the ships that take the convicts out will bring her whale oil back.
4.
Mollymauk 04:01
Oh, the Southern Ocean is a lonely place, Where the storms are many and the shelter’s scarce. ... Down upon the southern ocean sailing, ... Down below Cape Horn On the restless water and the troublin’ skies There you’ll see that Mollymauk wheel and fly. ... Down upon the southern ocean sailing, ... Down below Cape Horn Chorus: Won’t you ride the wind and go, bright seabird. Won’t you ride the wind and go, mollymawk Down upon the southern ocean sailing, Down below Cape Horn. See the Mollymauk riding on his wide, white wings, And, lord, what a lonely song he sings … And he’s got no compass and he’s got no gear, And there’s none can tell ya how the Mollymauka steer … He’s the ghost of a sailor-man, so I’ve heard say. Whose body sank, and his soul flew away … And he’s got no haven and he’s got no home, He’s bound evermore for to wheel and roam … When I gets too weary for to sail no more, Let my bones sink better far away from shore … You can cast me loose and leave me driftin’ free, And I’ll keep that big bird company …
5.
I have made up my mind now to be a Sailor’s wife, With a purse full of money and a very easy life, For a clever sailor husband is so seldom at his home, That his wife can spend the dollars with a will that’s all her own His wife can spend the dollars with a will that’s all her own Then I’ll haste to wed a sailor, and send him off to sea, For a life of independence is the pleasant life for me, Though, every now and then, I should like to see his face, Because it always seems to me to beam with manly grace Because it always seems to her to beam with manly grace With his brow so nobly open, and his dark and kindly eye, Oh my heart beats fondly towards him whenever he is nigh, But when he says “Goodbye my love, I’m off across the sea” First I cry for his departure, then I laugh because I’m free First she cries for his departure, then she laughs because she’s free Yet I’ll welcome him most gladly, whenever he returns And share with him so cheerfully the money that he earns For he is a loving husband, though he leads a roving life And well I know how good it is to be a Sailor’s Wife. And well she knows how good it is to be a sailor’s wife. I have made up my mind now to be a Sailor’s wife, With a purse full of money and a very easy life, For a clever sailor husband is so seldom at his home, That his wife can spend the dollars with a will that’s all her own His wife can spend the dollars with a will that’s all her own
6.
Bounty was a packet ship ... Pump ship, packet ship Sailing on a cruisin’ trip ... In the South Pacific Billy Blight, that silly man … Was the master in command … He was growling day and night … Whether he was wrong or right … There were troubles every day … Many sailors ran away … An’ at last that Billy Blight … With his crew began to fight … Mates and sailors in the night … Overpowered Billy Blight … They put Billy Blight afloat … With his madness in a boat … Bounty then went out of sight … Left alone was Billy Blight … Billy Blight he reached the coast … But the Bounty, she was lost … Never was there ever heard … Of the crew that stayed on board …
7.
Brightly beams our Father’s mercy From His lighthouse evermore, But to us He gives the keeping Of the lights along the shore. Chorus: Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Some poor fainting, struggling seaman You may rescue, you may save. Dark the night of sin has settled, Loud the angry billows roar; Eager eyes are watching, longing For the lights, along the shore. Trim your feeble lamp, my brother, Some poor sailor, tempest tossed, Trying now to make the harbour, In the darkness may be lost.
8.
The night came on a hurricane, the seas were mountains rolling, When Barney Buntline turned his quid, and says to Billy Bowline: “A strong Nor’ Wester’s blowing Bill, hark can’t you hear it roar now? Oh Lordy, how I pities them unhappy folks ashore now.” Chorus: And it’s bow wow wow Rum toddy, rum toddy, bow wow wow “Foolhardy chaps as lives in towns, what dangers they are all in, Now lie a-quaking in their beds, for fear their roofs might fall in, Poor creatures, how they envies us and wishes, I’ve a notion, For our good luck, in such a storm, to be out on the ocean.” “And as for them who’re out all day on business from their houses, And late at night returning home to cheer their babes and spouses, While you and I, Bill, on the deck are comfortably lying, My eyes – what tiles and chimney pots about their heads are flying.” “And very often have we heard how men are killed – and undone, By overturns of carriages, by thieves and fires in London, We knows what risks all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors, So Bill, let us thank Providence – that you and I are sailors!”
9.
Bob Marney 02:21
Far outward bound, far o’er the deep Slung in my hammock, I fell asleep I dreamed a dream that I thought was true Concerning Bob Marney and his boat’s crew. It was in the Grecian brig, that brig of fame, In which Bob Marney, he sailed the main; He was outward bound on a tedious route To find out where those sperm whales do spout. On yon green island not far from here Where we lost Bob Marney and his boat’s gear. There’s Captain Kennedy of Hobart Town There’s Captain Reynolds of high renown, There’s Captain Robertson and many, many more Have all been cruising MacQuarrie shore. They cruisèd East and they cruised West Round South West Cape that they knew the best No sight nor sign could they see nor hear Concerning Bob Marney, nor his boat’s gear. In Recherche Bay where the black whales blow This tale of Marney they all do know They says he’s gone, like so many, many more He’s left his home to return no more As I drew nearer to the Hobart shore I heard a fair maid in deep deplore. She was sobbing sighing, saying “Pity me I’ve lost my brother, poor Bob Marney I’ve lost my brother, never more to see I’ve lost my brother, poor Bob Marney”
10.
Whaling Wife 02:25
Aye! I’m waiting here at hame and I always feel the same Whenever my guid man goes tae the whaling, Seven months he’ll be awa’ doon amongst the ice and snow And there’s times my lonely heart is nearly breaking. Now it’s time the kids were fed, and I’ll put them into bed, And to them a story then I might be telling, That their Daddy’s gone tae sea, to buy food for them and me, And it’s many whales we hope he will be catching. If the whaling catch is fine, we will have an easy time, New clothes and food we ought to have in plenty, But if the blubber’s thin on the Blue Whale and the Fin, Then for us between the seasons could be scanty. So it’s waiting that I am, and I’m thinking of my man, And the pleasure when I know that he’s returning, But in case ye should forget — he hasna’ come hame yet, And wi’ tears my eyes at times are fairly burning.
11.
From the workshop off we go, toolkits heavy in our hands, To a big ship that’s come in, from a trip to foreign lands, Salty streaks of rust have marked her, but her moorings hold her tight, And we’ll work to fix her engines, all today and half the night. Chorus: Don’t wait up for me this evening — I’ll be out all night again Working on the Brisbane River with the ship repairing men. Oil-fired boilers throb with power, drinking up the furnace heat, Water turns to driving steam to make the engines beat, But the feed pump’s sighing wail to us cuts through all other sound, As it sings a song of triumph, for the valves that we have ground. Engine bearings that knocked and hammered through the wild and stormy seas, Will be machined and fitted ’til they run with silent ease, And that winch that rattles every time the piston turns the shaft, Will hum along and sing its song, to men skilled in their craft. When you see an ocean liner, glide between the river banks, And the Captain in his gold braid orders men of lesser ranks, Have you thought perhaps this stately craft might never sail again, If it wasn’t for the toil and sweat, of ship repairing men.
12.
Ocean Liner 03:26
When I was fishing back in the west and rolling on the foaming sea. I’d dream of them pretty girls back on the shore and I wish they were here with me. Chorus: So step on board me Ocean Liner Step on board without delay me lads Step on board there’s nothing finer And together we’ll sail away I made up my mind to take to the wave on hearing of good return. So the very next morning I found myself prawning and my stomach it began to churn. Working twenty-four hours a day, with me eyes hanging out of my head. Twenty-four hours barely making a wage and I wish I was back in my (her) bed. Seven cents a kilo for Kings they said, eight cents a kilo Endeavour’s. And it’s ten cents a kilo for Tiger prawns, but for that they want the best out of you. I’m a long way from mother out here on the wave, a long way from family. And a bloody long way from being a tap dancer, that me mother oh so wanted me to be. The skipper a big man he stands so high, his head pokes up through the rigging. And the crew, they’re all druggo’s and they’re so high, I think they’ve left the land of the living. So I’m eating and thinking and sorting prawns, till they flaming well come out of my ears. And the cook gives me the shits in more ways than one So I think I’m on me very last run.
13.
Come all you sealers and listen to me ... Come down you blood red roses, come down. A lovely song I’ll sing to thee. ... Come down you blood red roses, come down. Chorus: Oh, you pinks and posies Come down you blood red roses, come down It was in eighteen hundred and three That we set sail for the southern sea Our captain he has set us down And he’s set sail for Sydney town. And he has left us with some grub Oh one split pea in a half gallon tub And here we are, all covered with fur And we’ve grown tails like Lucifer When our captain he returns for a spell We’ll treat him well, like bloody hell!
14.
The night fell dark on the quiet sea The Birchgrove Park rode restlessly A collier on the short run down Of nineteen men there were eight men who drowned A sudden lurch as she slid below The way that all the colliers go If home bound men had battened down There’d be eight good men who would not have drowned Oh Sydney waters are green and cold Take life from men with a freezing hold They say that men on the colliers drown When the cargo rolls – not battened down Oh beckoning lights of Sydney Town Still beckoning men as the ship goes down It is for the love of your winking lights That colliers drown on lonely nights
15.
I sing of a captain not unknown to fame; A naval commander, Bill Jinks was his name, Who sailed where the Murray’s clear waters do flow, Did this freshwater shellback, with his Yeo heave a ho. Chorus: With his Yeo ho, yeo heave a ho With his Yeo ho, yeo heave a ho To the Port of Wahgunyah his vessel was bound When night came upon him and darkness around; Not a star on the waters its clear light did throw; But the vessel sped onward with a Yeo heave a ho. “Oh! Captain, oh! Captain, let’s make for the shore, For the seas they do rage and the winds they do roar!” “Nay, nay,” said the captain, “though the fierce winds may blow I’ll stick to me vessel with a Yeo heave a ho.” “Oh! Captain, oh! Captain, the waves sweep the deck, Oh Captain, oh! Captain, we’ll soon be a wreck To the river’s deep bosom each seaman will go!” But the Captain laughed lightly, with his Yeo heave a ho. “Farewell to the maiden, the girl I adore; Farewell to my friends, I shall see them no more!” The crew shrieked in terror, the Captain he swore. We had stuck on a sandbank, so the men walked ashore. With a Yeo, ho, Yeo heave a ho With a Yeo, ho, Yeo heave a ho With a Yeo, ho, Yeo heave a ho
16.
A noble whale ship and commander Called the Catalpa, they say Came out to Western Australia And took six poor Fenians away Chorus: So – come all you screws, warders and jailers Remember Perth Regatta Day Take care of the rest of your Fenians Or the Yankees will steal them away Seven long years had they served here And seven long more had to stay For defending their country, Old Ireland For that, they were banished away You kept them in Western Australia Till their hair it began to turn grey When a Yank from the States of America Came out here and stole them away Now all the Perth boats were a-racing And making short tacks for the spot But the Yankee tacked into Fremantle And took the best prize of the lot The Georgette, well-armed with bold warriors, Went out the poor Yanks to arrest But she hoisted her star-spangled banner Saying you will not board me, I guess. So remember those Fenians colonial And sing o’er these verses with skill Remember the Yankee that stole them And the home that they left on the hill Now they’ve landed safe in America And there will be able to cry “Hoist up the green flag and the shamrock Hurrah for old Ireland we’ll die.”
17.
I’ll sing you a tale of a long lost ship ... Bringing the beer to Broome About its last and fateful trip ... Bringing the beer to Broome Well it was sailed by Andy Jones But never again you’ll hear his moans On the ocean floor he rests his bones ... Bringing the beer to Broome Chorus: Bringing the beer to Broome boys Bringing the beer to Broome Andy’s ships coming round the point Bringing the beer to Broome Now Andy was a sailor … Started on a whaler … Now he’s got his very own boat Does everything to keep it afloat And the only hand is a drunken goat … Soon he’ll try to cross that reef … T’was there he finally came to grief … But his cargos what we all admire Temperature is getting higher Throats becoming even drier … Well, the wind arose and blew aloud … The sky was covered thick with cloud … And Andy’s boat began to sink T’was right above the reef I think And the beer was left for the fish to drink … Now Broome was dry for quite a while … It underwent a heavy trial … But all’s well now in Broome you see The town’s now got its own brewery T’was built in 1923 …
18.
They cast ’em down at Plymouth where the water’s deep and cool And they drop ’em round from Melbourne to the wharves of Liverpool There are nets for shallow waters where the brown sand-mullet be But the net below the gangway is the net for you and me Chorus: So ye rowdy, roaring devils with your roaring, rowdy song When we’ve rolled for recreation with our sweethearts round the town; When a sailor’s had a skinful and he staggers back from shore There’s a net below the gangway for to catch you if you fall So they “shoot” them in the Hudson, in the Thames and at the Tay They’re “cast” in Sydney Harbour and in San Francisco Bay. Oh, the net below the gangway it is sweeter for our togs Than the slush about the Bridges, or around the Isle of Dogs Oh, ’tis better that we gather in the meshes of the trawls” Where a drunken shellback flounders, where a swearing man-crab crawls Than the bubbles at the surface, than a splashing in the dark Than a drag-hooked, bloated boozer, or a picnic for John Shark. So ye rowdy, roaring devils with your roaring, rowdy song When we’ve rolled for recreation with our sweethearts round the town; ’tis pleasant to remember when we’re blind and cannot see That the net below the gangway will be kind to you and me
19.
When the southern gale is blowing hard, And the watch are all on the topsail yard. When five come down where six went up, There’s one less to share the bite and sup. Chorus: Instead of the stone and carven verse, This is his epitaph, curt and terse: “John Smith, A. B., Drowned in latitude fifty-three, A heavy gale and a following sea.” A name is missed when the roll they call. A hand the less for the mainsail haul. They steal his rags and they dump his bed, Little it matters to him who’s dead. We lost the way to the open sea, We have missed the doom we thought to dree. For the big ships running their eastings down Are far from the din of Sydney town. Instead of the clean blue sunlit wave, Our bones will lie in a darksome grave. For the means to live we barter life. Would I were back in the old-time strife. Final Chorus: For the means to live we barter life. Would I were back in the old-time strife. Once more at sea, Reefing topsails in fifty-three, In the blinding drift from the angry sea.
20.
Every morning at eight-twenty-five Down to the Rose Bay wharf I drive Park my Humber underneath a tree Pop along the gangplank and then I’m free Free says you, but how can that be? For you always finish up at Circular Quay So doubting Tom, let me explain When I get on board I sing this sweet refrain Where are we going today, Mr. Nicholson? Where is it going to be? Don’t turn left, turn right down the harbour And out to the open sea Throw away your compass, right hand down And it’s out through the Heads we go So ho! let’s be merry on the Rose Bay ferry If we run out of petrol we’ll row Yo Ho! If we run out of petrol we’ll row Monday Java, Tuesday Spain Wednesday it’s Tokyo and back again The only trouble is, there isn’t any Gents But what do you want for twenty cents? Off with me raincoat and me woolly vest See the naked ladies on my chest Today is Friday, so hold on tight ’Cause we’re off to Trinidad and back tonight Where are we going today, Mr. Nicholson? Where is it going to be? Don’t turn left, turn right down the harbour And out to the open sea Pull up your anchor, pull your finger out And wave goodbye to your home We’re off to Nantucket, so give that man a bucket ‘Cause it’s choppy when you’re out on the foam, Heave Ho! It’s choppy when you’re out on the foam Sometimes when I get up late I only reach the jetty at half past eight But that doesn’t ruin my world-wide trip ’Cause the eight thirty-seven is a battleship Off on the dot with our guns on high Mince up Manly as we pass by If you run out of rockets, just pop upstairs You can get ’em from the chappy who collects the fares Where are we going today, Mr. Nicholson? Where is it going to be? Don’t turn left, turn right down the harbour And out to the open sea For though we look like dudes and doctors At heart we are men of the sea So Ho! Let’s be merry on the Rose Bay ferry Until we get to Circular Quay, you see We finish up at Circular Quay So Ho! Let’s be merry on the Rose Bay ferry Until we get to Circular Quay, you see We finish up at Circular Quay
21.
South Australia is my land ... Heave away, heave away Mountains rich in quartz and sand ... We’re bound for South Australia! Chorus: Heave away, heave away, Oh, heave away you ruler king We’re bound for South Australia! There’s a packet lying off the pier … And a bar ashore with foaming beer … I see Julia standing on the quay … With a girl for you and a girl for me … At the head of Sandridge Railroad Pier … To Mother Shilling’s we will steer … She serves the she-oak at the bar … And welcomes sailors from afar … In the arms of girls we’ll dance and sing … For she-oak will be Ruler King … The she-oaks gone straight to our head … The girls can put us all to bed …
22.
I’ve traded with the Yankees, Brazilians and Chinese I’ve courted Maori beauties, sailed the seven seas I’ve travelled along with a laugh and a song In the land where they call you mate Around the Horn and back again, that’s the sailor’s fate Chorus: Across the line, the Gulf Stream, I’ve been in Table Bay Around the Horn and back again That’s the sailor’s way I’ve run aground in many a sound without a pilot on board Long boats lowered by lantern light, slipped off and gently oared With its rowlocks creaking and a rolling swell And a wind that’d make you ache Oh, who would sail the seven seas and share a sailor’s fate? I’ve hauled away to northward, I’ve beat away to east Trimmed our sails in the teeth of a gale, stood in the calmest seas We have set our course by a southern star From Stewart through the straits Westward round by Milford sound, for that’s the sailor’s fate

about

CROSSING THE LINE is a collection of sea songs and shanties from the southern oceans. The songs span two centuries and include less commonly known versions from original sources. 40°S is a group of veteran Sydney folk and shanty singers: Margaret Walters, Tom Hanson, Don Brian and Chris Maltby.

credits

released July 9, 2021

Produced by Christina Mimmocchi
Recorded and mixed by Greg White
Recorded at Humph Hall
Artwork: Tom Hanson, Chris Maltby
Photo: Robin Buchanan
Manufacturing: MAD CDs
Thanks to Wayne Richmond, Gial Leslie, Sue Brian & Daniel Bornstein.
Special thanks to Christina Mimmocchi for her unfailing enthusiasm.

Thanks also to the singers who have influenced us over many decades, the collectors, authors of ships logs, etc., and not forgetting the shanty singers of the 21st Century who have refocussed our love of these songs.

All songs arranged Forty Degrees South
Track notes © 2021 Forty Degrees South

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Forty Degrees South Sydney, Australia

A Sydney folk group known from 1988 for their powerful impact when singing unaccompanied traditional songs.

Strong individual singers, the interplay of their combined voices makes for a distinctive sound.

Sea shanties and other songs of maritime and industrial history and union songs feature large in their repertoire, songs with a robust quality that tell of real people, their lives and work.
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