Barrett's Privateers

O the year was Seventeen Seventy-Eight

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

A letter of marque came from the king

To the scummiest vessel I’ve ever seen


God damn them all

I was told we’d cruise the seas for American gold

We’d fire no guns, shed no tears

Now I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Barrett’s Privateers


O Elcid Barrett cried the town

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

For twenty brave men all fishermen who

Would make for him the Antelope’s crew


The Antelope sloop was a sickening site

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

She’d list to the port and her sails in rags

And the cook in the scuppers with the staggers and jags


God damn them all

I was told we’d cruise the seas for American gold

We’d fire no guns, shed no tears

Now I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Barrett’s Privateers


On the King’s birthday we put to sea

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

Ninety-one days to Montego Bay

Pumping like madmen all the way


On the ninety-sixth day we sailed again

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

When a great big Yankee hove in sight

With our cracked four-pounders we made to fight


God damn them all

I was told we’d cruise the seas for American gold

We’d fire no guns, shed no tears

Now I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Barrett’s Privateers


The Yankee lay low down with gold

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

She was broad and fat and loose in stays

But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days


Then at length she stood two cables away

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

Our cracked four-pounders made awful din

But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in


God damn them all

I was told we’d cruise the seas for American gold

We’d fire no guns, shed no tears

Now I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Barrett’s Privateers


The Antelope shook and pitched on her side

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs

And the main truck carried off both me legs


Now here I lay in my twenty-third year

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

It’s been six years since we sailed away

And I just made Halifax yesterday


God damn them all

I was told we’d cruise the seas for American gold

We’d fire no guns, shed no tears

Now I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Barrett’s Privateers