Bruce Springsteen Follow

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.

[chorus:]

O the E-ri-e was a-rising

And the gin was a-getting 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-sea-cook