In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that little pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
How the winter blizzards blow, and the whaling fleet's at rest
Tucked in Leith harbor's sheltered bay, safely anchored ten abreast
The sailors at their stations, as from ship to ship they go
Carry little bags of coal with them, and a little iron stove
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that little pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
The fireman Paddy works with me on the engine stiff and cold
A stranger to the truth is he, there's not a lie he hasn't told
Well he told me of his gold mine, and of all the hearts he'd won
And his bonny sense of humor shone just like a ray of sun
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that little pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
We labored seven days a week, with cold hands and frozen feet
Bitter days and lonely nights making grog and having fights
Salt fish and whalemeat sausage, fresh penguin eggs a treat
And we trudged along to work each day through icy wind and sleet
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that little pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
And then one day we saw the sun and the whaling fleet return
Meet your old friends, sing a song; pray the season won't be long
Then it's homeward bound when it's over; yes we'll leave this icy hole
But I always will remember that little iron stove
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that little pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
