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E-Ri-E Canal 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. cho: 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-gub That's left to tell the tale. RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!