Erie Canal by Weavers
We were forty miles from Albany,
Forget it I never shall.
What a terrible storm we had one night
On the E-ri-e Canal.
Oh, the E-ri-e was a-risin',
And the gin was a-getting' low,
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Till we get to Buffalo,
Till we get to Buffalo.
Well, the barge was full of barley,
And the crew was full of rye;
The captain he looked down on me
With a dag-gone wicked eye.
Oh, the E-ri-e was a-risin',
And the gin was a-getting' low,
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Till we get to Buffalo,
Till we get to Buffalo.
Well, the captain he stood up on deck
With a spyglass in his hand,
And the fog it was so doggone thick
That he couldn't spy the land.
Oh, the E-ri-e was a-risin',
And the gin was a-getting' low,
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Till we get to Buffalo,
Till we get to Buffalo.
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