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American Ballads and Folk Songs
The winds began to whistle And the waves began to roll, And we had to reef our royal On the raging Canawl.
When we got to Syracuse The off mule he was dead, The nigh mule got blind staggers And we cracked him on the head} The captain he got married, The cook she went to jail, And I was the only son of a bitch That's left to tell the tale.
Four long days we sailed the Hudson,
Sal and I and Hank;
We greased ourselves with tallow fat
And slid out on a plank;
The crew are in the poorhouse,
The captain he's in jail,
And I'm the sole survivin' man
That's left to tell the tale.
THE ERIE CANAL From Rev. Charles A. Richmond, Washington, D. G I've got a mule, her name is Sal, Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal; She's a good old worker and a good old pal, Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal. We've hauled some barges in our day, Filled with lumber, coal, and hay,