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. Chorus: Oh, the e-ri-e was a-rising, And gin was getting low, And i scarcely think We're gonna get a little drink Till we get to buffalo-o-o, Till we get to buffalo. We were loaded down with barley, We were loaded down with rye, And the captain, he looked at me With a gol-durn wicked eye. Chorus The captain he come up on deck With a spyglass in his hand But the fog it was so tarn-ol' thick That he couldn't spy the land Chorus The cook she was a grand ol' gal, She had a ragged dress. And we hoisted her upon a pole As a signal of distress. Chorus Well, the captain, he got married, And the cook, she went to jail; And i'm the only son-of-a-gun That's left to tell the tale.