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De Hamborger Veermaster
Ick hef mol en Hamborger Veermaster sehn, 
   To my ho-dah, to my ho-dah,
De Masten so scheef as den Schipper sien Been, 
   To my ho-dah, ho-dah, ho!
Chorus:
Blow, blow boys blow, for Californio!
There's plenty of gold, so I am told, 
on the banks of Sacramento.
Blow, boys, blow, for Californio!
There's plenty of gold, so I am told, 
on the banks of Sacramento!
Dat Deck weur vulsen, vull Schiet un voll Schmeer.
'Rein Schipp' weur den Käpten sin grötstet Pläseer.
Dat Logis weur vull Wanzen, de Kombüs weur vull Dreck,
De Beschüt, de leupen von sülben all weg.
Dat Soltfleesch weur greun, un de Speck weur vull Moden,
Köm gäv dat bloss an Wiehnachtsobend.
Un wulln wi mol seiln, ick seg dat jo nur,
Denn leup he dree vorut und veer wedder retur.
As dat Schipp weur, so weur ok de Kaptein,
De Lüd for dat Schipp weurn ok blot schangheit.


There's not a friend like the lowly Jesus- No, not one! No, not one! None else could heal all our soul's diseases- No, not one! No, not one!
- Oatman, Johnson, Jr. (1856-1922)