4 May 2010 0 Comments

Barrett’s Privateers

Written by Stan Rogers (c) 1976

Oh the year was seventeen seventy eight

How I wish I were 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

I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Barrett’s privateers

Oh old Sid Barrett he cried the town

How I wish I were in Sherbrooke now

For twenty brave men all fishermen who

Would make for him the Antelope’s crew

The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight

How I wish I were in Sherbrooke now

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

And a cook in the scuppers with staggers and jags

On the King’s birthday we put to sea

How I wish I were in Sherbrooke now

We were ninety-one days to Montego Bay

Pumping like madmen all the way

On the ninety-sixth day we sailed again

How I wish I were in Sherbrooke now

When a bloody great Yankee hoved in sight

With our cracked four pounders we made to fight

The Yankee lay low down with gold

How I wish I were 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 we stood two cables away

How I wish I were in Sherbrooke now

Our cracked four pounders made an awful din

But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in

The Antelope shook and rolled on her side

How I wish I were in Sherbrooke now

Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs

And the maintruck carried off both me legs

So here I lay in my twenty-third year

How I wish I were in Sherbrooke now

It’s been six years since we sailed away

And I just made Halifax yesterday

Leave a Reply