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
