Song parody of
The Er-i-e Was Risin'
by Yellow Jack
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We were forty-nine miles from Albany, forget it I never shall
What a terrible storm we had that night On the E-ri-e Canal
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
Our cook her name was Big Foot Sal, she wore a bright red dress
We h'isted it up on the mast as a signal of distress
Oh yea, she was a grand old gal, stood 6 foot in her socks
With a hoof just like an elephant, and breath that opened locks
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
We were loaded down with barley, we were chock-full up on rye
And the captain he looked down at me with his gol-durned wicked eye
Oh, lay me on the horse bridge, With my feet up toward the bough
Let it be a Lockport laker or a Tonawanda scow
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
Two days out from Syracuse the vessel struck a shoal
We like to all be foundered on a chunk o' Lackawanna coal
We hollered to the captain on the towpath, treadin' dirt
He jumped on board and stopped the leak with his old red flannel shirt
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
I've travelled all around this world, and Tonawanda, too
I'm every inch a sailor boys, been beaten black and blue
The cook is in the Police Gazette, the captain went to jail
And I'm the only son-of-a-bitch that's left to tell the tale. Oh
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
We were forty-nine miles from Albany, forget it I never shall
What a terrible storm we had that night On the E-ri-e Canal
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
Our cook her name was Big Foot Sal, she wore a bright red dress
We h'isted it up on the mast as a signal of distress
Oh yea, she was a grand old gal, stood 6 foot in her socks
With a hoof just like an elephant, and breath that opened locks
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
We were loaded down with barley, we were chock-full up on rye
And the captain he looked down at me with his gol-durned wicked eye
Oh, lay me on the horse bridge, With my feet up toward the bough
Let it be a Lockport laker or a Tonawanda scow
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
Two days out from Syracuse the vessel struck a shoal
We like to all be foundered on a chunk o' Lackawanna coal
We hollered to the captain on the towpath, treadin' dirt
He jumped on board and stopped the leak with his old red flannel shirt
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
I've travelled all around this world, and Tonawanda, too
I'm every inch a sailor boys, been beaten black and blue
The cook is in the Police Gazette, the captain went to jail
And I'm the only son-of-a-bitch that's left to tell the tale. Oh
Oh! the E-ri-e was rising
And the gin was a-getting low
And I scarcely think we'll get a drink
Til we get to Buff-a-lo-o-o; 'Til we get to Buffalo
