Dead Horse Shanty
This grim little number marks the end of a sailor’s first month at sea—when your advance pay’s been well and truly squandered and now the real graft begins.
Traditionally, crews would drag a straw-stuffed effigy along the deck and toss it overboard, "paying off the dead horse." We sing it with full contempt—not just for the horse, but for the work ahead. It’s a bitter farewell to the last vestiges of freedom and a reluctant nod to hard labour.
Lyrics
A poor old man came riding by
And we say so, and we hope so
A poor old man came riding by
Oh, poor old man.
Says I, "Old man, your horse will die."
And we say so, and we hope so
Says I, "Old man, your horse will die."
Oh, poor old man.
And if he dies we'll tan his skin
And we say so, and we hope so
And if he don't we'll ride him again.
Oh, poor old man.
For one long month I rode him hard
And we say so, and we hope so
For one long month we all rode him hard.
Oh, poor old man.
But now your month is up, old Turk
And we say so, and we hope so
Get up, you swine, and look for work
Oh, poor old man.
Get up you swine and look for graft
And we say so, and we hope so
While we lays on and drags ye aft
Oh, poor old man.
He's as dead as a nail in the lamp-room door
And we say so, and we hope so
And he won't worry us no more
Oh, poor old man.
We'll use the hair of his tail, to sew our sails
And we say so, and we hope so
And the iron of his shoe to make deck nails
Oh, poor old man.
We'll hoist him up to the fore yard-arm
And we say so, and we hope so
Where’e won't do sailors any harm
Oh, poor old man.
We'll drop him down with a long, long rope
And we say so, and we hope so
Where the sharks will ’ave his body and the Devil take his soul.
Oh, poor…. Old… Man...
