| It’s been three long years
|
| Since we made her pay,
|
| Sing, haul away, my laddie-o
|
| And we can’t get by on the subsidy,
|
| Sing haul away, my laddie-o
|
| So now you heave away,
|
| For the final trawl
|
| Sing haul away, my laddie-o
|
| It’s an easy pull
|
| For the catch is small
|
| Sing haul away, my laddie-o.
|
| And then you take your gear, lad,
|
| And batten down,
|
| And I’ll taker her wheel, lad,
|
| And turn her 'round.
|
| And then we’ll join the 'Venture'
|
| And the 'Morning Star'
|
| Riding high and empty
|
| Towards the bar.
|
| For I’d rather beach her
|
| On the Skerry rock
|
| Than to see her torched
|
| In the breakers dock
|
| Then when I die,
|
| You can stow me down
|
| In her rusty hold
|
| Where the breakers sound
|
| And then I’ll make the haven
|
| Of Fiddler’s Green
|
| Where the grub is good,
|
| And the bunks are clean
|
| For I’ve fished a lifetime,
|
| Boy and man
|
| And this final trawl
|
| Scarcely makes a cran.
|
| And it’s been three long years
|
| Since we made her pay
|
| And we can’t get by
|
| On the subsidy
|
| Sing haul away, my laddie-o. |