Goodbye, little Robin-Marie
Don't try following me
Don't cry, little Robin-Marie
'Cause you know [bad word] home soon

My ships' leaving on a three-year tour
The next tide will take us from shore
Windlaced, gather in sail and spray
On a search for the mighty sperm whale

Fly your willow branches
Wrap your body round my soul
Lay down your reeds and [bad word] on my soft sheets
There are years behind us reaching
To the place where hearts are beating
And I know you're the last [bad word] love I'll ever meet

Starbuck's sharpening his harpoon
The black man's playing his tune
An old salt's sleeping his watch away
He'll be [bad word] again before noon

Three years sailing on bended knee
We found no whales in the sea
Don't cry, little Robin-Marie
'Cause we'll be in sight of land soon