Best Whaling Poems
A Whaling Tale
by Gabriel Magno
The whaling ships approach as I stare into the bay,
today I said by short farewells, to friends who pled I stay.
A whaler I have dreamt to be, since I stood three feet tall,
my name appears among the list of worker’s on the wall.
I grab my heavy backpack, and board the pungent ship,
as whalers celebrate with wine, a long successful trip.
We sail under the moon light, as we brave the crashing waves,
and as the morning sun appears, the ocean now behaves.
The captain calls all hands on deck, to start the daily hunt,
he points and shouts “there she blows”, the whale we’ll soon confront.
Harpoon in hand I spot it rising, as we meet briefly eye to eye,
with trembling hands I cannot throw, and watch the peaceful creature die.
The captain shouts “throw hard, throw true, before it swims away”,
instead I dropped this lethal spear, and prayed it lives another day.
As I stood watching, another whaler did his duty and it was cast,
but as the Northern winds blew hard, it missed the whale who fled at last.
The captain’s wrath I took in stride, I count the hours until we land,
and no more do I dream of whaling, against it now I’ll surely stand.
God’s creatures one and all, are born like you and me,
to dwell in this a wondrous earth, longing to live peaceful and free.
WHALING SHIP CAPTAIN’S LOVER
(Part 2 of 3)
Now Jorgie was a fierce one
Widowed ‘fore she wed
The object of her passion
A Sea man lost and dead
Jorgie had a small lad
Swaddled piece of sun
And her lovers parents
Coveted this tiny life begun
They didn’t care that he was born
Before the two were wed
They claimed that he was theirs now
A whaling lad- True bred.
The parents of the lover
had an only child
On his death they lost their hope
Twas like a dream defiled.
Jorgie begged her father
"Keep us out of sight!"
But her father made a traitors deal--
Oft Gold dissolves what’s right.
She quickly packed her bag
And off the two did fly
She sold gold jewelry and fine clothes
And kissed her land good bye
Upon a third class ship
She bought a third class bed
The sickness hit her in a storm
She puked until she bled…
Spring Winds they blew black fierce,
the poor men all were cursed
The scurvy struck them all
There was no last or first
The ship was tossed --the wind blew bad
A wretched ugly sight
Despite the stink ,despite her fear
She battled with her fright.
Didn’t know the language
Didn’t know the style
But Jorgie was determined
To prosper with her child
When she reached the New World
She found cross country trains
And as she crossed the mighty land
She wracked her weary brain.
To organize a new life
And work the whole day long
She came up with a daring plan
She hoped she wasn’t wrong.
She jumped the train at Minot
She had a cousin there
She’d pay his wife to watch the babe
‘til she could raise him fair.
The cousin’s wife had lost her babes
She welcomed the small joy
Jorgie smiled and kissed him tho
Her heart ached for the boy.
She ventured West to logging camps
Set up her fire and pans
Cooked for Nordic loggers
The boldest of bold men.
========to be continued (too long for the site...sorry...)
Note: Jorgie : (pronounced Yor’ gee) was a nickname
Her name: Sena Jorgine Larsen
WHALING SHIP CAPTAIN"S LOVER part 3
Now Jorgie met a new love
He begged to make her wife
First, they’d fetch her small boy
to start a fresh new life.
So East they went to Minot
To find her cousin there
But when they came to his big house
His smile for them was spare.
The cousin was not happy
To relinquish that fine boy
He said his wife would waste away
Without her greatest joy
And Jorgie, solemn, studied them
The woman and the child &
Wept with great compassion
Her broken heart ran wild.
Determined to do justice
Twas no one she could blame
Jorgie hugged the boy good bye
Her soul in raging flame.
She bid the woman love him
And tell him she was aunt
And with her newfound husband, John,
Departed pale and gaunt.
Now John, he was a good man
Who worshiped his new wife
They agreed to keep a secret
About her former life
And so away the years passed
Son came after son
Jorgie had a fresh life
They built a solid home.
Each month she mailed the letters
To the ‘cousin’ in the west
She parceled up the photos
true siblings in their best
But Sadness haunted Jorgie’s eyes
She tried to hide it well
But her husband knew her---
She had him in her spell.
So sad she was and so forlorn
He needed to confide
To someone who could help him
to cheer his cherished bride.
And so he told his sister
His wife had longed to see
From her past her loved ones---
Her own sweet family.
So sister Lena planned a scheme—
For Jorgie wild and free
the gift would be a great surprise
And John he did agree.
They would take the children
Aboard the westbound train
Jump the train at Minot
To see the boy again.
Wait they must til autumn
For Jorgie twas the best
In May would be a newborn babe
Nuzzling at her breast
Then hit the plague of ‘17
Entire towns were dead—
And in their midst was Jorgie--
With her newborn-- cold, in bed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: Jorgie : (pronounced Yor’ gee) was a nickname
Her name: Sena Jorgine Larsen
My father’s mother. The baby named Clara. My was nearly 4 when they died. His father, John Anderson—Jorgie’s husband , never remarried. He lived to be in his 70’s. His sister, my great aunt, Lena Anderson Hildebrandt, told me this story in 1971.
PS THERE IS ANOTHER PART TO THIS IF ANYONE WANTS TO READ IT LET ME KNOW. I DON'T WANT TO BORE ANYONE TO DEATH! vat
'Thar she blows!' the cry goes up
a breaching whale is seen
The longboat's manned and low'red
the lookout's eyes were keen
The hunt begins, the whalers chant
the oarsmen strain and pull
The whaling ship won't turn for port
'til her holds are full
The boat seems small, the men seem weak
beside the mighty whale
but it's gentle nature seals it's fate
the harpoon never fails
The sea is churned to bloody red
the whale takes hours to die
but no-one there bemoans its fate
no tears in whaler's eyes
The killing done the mighty beast
is cut and torn apart
It's oil and perfume that combine
to still the giant's heart
The days of sail soon fade away
a spear becomes a gun
now gas is used to float the beast
when all the killing's done
Just when it seems that all is lost
that all the whales will die
the world begins to count the cost
of slaughter, greed and lies
The gentle giants of the sea
are saved from death and pain
We never should have hunted them
and never should again
To see them float with lazy grace
to spout and roll and dive
To touch their calves, a fluke's embrace
be glad they're still alive
It's very hard to understand
why some still want to kill
Their claims of scientific culls
are lies that make me ill
Let's let the gentle giants live
in peace beneath the waves
for once they do it's more than whales
that we will then have saved
From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"
ghosts on the water
Captains courageous
Out hunting for whale
Ghosts on the water
Still under sail
Whales are all gone now
Time goes so fast
Ghosts on the water
Still a'fore the mast
Yesterday beckons
But no one can see
The ghosts on the water
Still sailing the sea
Hunting for schools
That no longer exist
Ghosts on the water
Sail on in the mist
Captains courageous
Out hunting for blue
Souls lost in stasis
A captain and crew
Looking for something
Fighting waves and the gales
Ghosts on the water
Still under sail
A sailor's adventure
Going where the wind blows
When will the sea bite?
Nobody knows
Ships nonexistent
Hunting whales also lost
Ghosts on the water
Whatever the cost
Fin Whales are listed as, endangered
and are the second largest animal, on our planet
they swim in, California, Coral Triangle and Artic waters
and the ridge on their back, is nicknamed “razorback”
They have an unusual feature, as their lower left jaw
is just black, and lower right jaw, is bright white
They circle schools of fish, with their white side facing
to densify their prey, for an easy catch of fish
Commercial whaling, has killed hundreds of thousands
for oil, meat and baleen, to feed greedy humans
Iceland needs to end, their commercial annihilation
and we all need to end, climate change and pollution
WHALING IN 1844
All hands came aboard
In March we left Deptford
Bound for Greenland’s whales and
Rather it was Wales’s green land.
The lookout on the mainmast tied
Saw her white spout and cried
“Thar she blows, mates”
And the shellbacks straight
Manned the harpoon boats
Pulling tight their oilskin coats
Even in the teeth of the squall
Captain Thomas called to overhaul
Boats were lowered and men aboard
Thinking of their whale-reward
Harpoon struck and the line paid out
She leapt with pain and turned about
The blue tail went skyward
Here was their whale reward
Smash into the boat and five
Floating men no longer alive
Losing the men was adverse
But losing the whale was a curse
The school would disperse
Affecting each man’s purse
The Baffin ice was thicker now
Under the yards, under the prow
So we set sail for England half-full
And ran south our icy hull
Home now and a short-time lull
We’ll soon be back for another cull.