The night was clear and the air was crisp

in the land of the midnight sun

Ninety six days of thunder and crash

as our bows broke new formed ice

Leading others through the passage

The North extracts it's price

The Captain locked inside his room

with his liquor and his wine

The officers moods getting testy

trying to fill their empty time

The crew true maritimers

were't complaining very much

Most were seasoned ice-breakers

accustomed to the crunch 

But the mate a cruel and petty man

drove our crew with mean distaste

He had not a spec of kindness

to him pity was waste

He was not a man too reason

he ruled with an iron fist

Two men already crippled

too many wounds to list

We'd left the rocks of Newfoundland

hugging the coast of Labrador

Entered the ice fields near Greenland

watched the polar bears on shore

Above Hudson Bay the winds blew hard  

the ice gripped us like a claw

We lost our rigging and our radio

with no sign of an early thaw

On the third night a rift in the ice appeared

the hull broke free again

In the dark of night on the lonely deck

no one hears a scream of pain

Next day there's no more mate 

and the Captains gone insane 

Now some may call it mutiny

some may call it murder too

Yet no one ever did get charged

I swear to you I do

If you make your bed of tyrany

you sleep in it all alone

Davy Jones locker filled with ghosts

in the North you'll hear them moan.