The African Trade
Stamp the capstan round m' boys, kick up
some flaming dust,
For 'The Triangle' southward we're sailing,
Never mind the trade you're in, you've got to make a crust,
And 'blackbirding's' easier than whaling.
Now we're off the coast of Guinea, the Arab dhows come out,
They're loaded down with misery for cargo,
Black-ivory for rifles is the business we're about,
In the dark of night we'll out-run the embargo.
And the tears of the slaves made the Mersey run black,
That's how a great city was made!
When you look to the future, take the time to look back,
And remember The African Trade. Remember The African Trade.
Our destination's Mobile Bay, so cram-on every sail,
And stop your ears, don't listen to the crying,
It's wet on deck but hell below so bless the raging gale,
The sooner we get there the fewer dying.
There's cotton in our hold for the mills of Lancashire,
And after all you've only done your duty,
And if your kids are hungry there's another trip next year,
If the memories won't let you sleep just take another beer,
Rolling home to dear old Liverpool the nightmares re-appear,
So keep your mind on England, Home and Beauty.
Slavery makes slaves of us all. Remember The African Trade!