Henry's Songbook

Chorus:
God damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas
For American gold we'd fire no guns
Shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on the Halifax Pier
The last of Barratt's privateers

The year was seventeen-seventy-eight
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
A Letter of Marque came from the king
To the scummiest vessel I'd ever seen

Well Elcid Barratt cried the town
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
For twenty brave men, bold fishermen who
Would make for him the Antelope's crew

The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
She'd a list to the port and her sails in rags
And the cook in the scuppers with the staggers and jags

On the ninety-sixth day we sailed away
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
When a bloody great Yankee hove in sight
With our cracked four-pounders we made to fight

At length we stood two cables away
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
Our cracked four-ponders made an awful din
But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in

Here I lie in my twenty-third year
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
It's six years since we sailed away
And I just made Halifax yesterday

(Halifax, Sherbrooke - towns in Nova Scotia)

(as sung by The McCalmans)

[1978:] The story takes place during the American War of Independence. The King was George III of England. The 'Letters of Mark' were permission to equip gun boats to attack American ships. (Notes Bill Price, 'I Sing As I Please')

[2002:] Our choice of repertoire and approach to performance have influenced a number of performers, including the late Stan Rogers. The story of "Barratt's Privateers" is a case in point. Fairly early in his career, Stan's repertoire reflected that of the coffeehouse circuit where he did most of his playing, and to that point, little of the music of his maritime roots. At one festival in Sudbury Ontario, at an after hours party, the Friends [of Fiddler's Green] were holding forth with the usual selection of noisy chorussy stuff that tends to dominate such events. Stan had little to contribute, and it obviously bothered him, for he left fairly early (for him) in a bit of a huff. He arrived at breakfast the next morning and threw a sheet of paper with the words of "Barratt's Privatreers" on the table in front of us, uttering the memorable words, "Suck that back you limey bastards!" We like to think we helped him find his muse. Stan was a great pal, and we miss him. (Alistair Brown, Living Tradition 46, 19 f.)

See also
http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=5843
http://www.chebucto.ns.ca/~jacktar/barretts.html