| It’s busk ye, me boy’s, get you up on the deck
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| And take up your stations for hauling the nets
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| And mind up all together lads all through the night
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| And shaking your oilskins until it’s daylight
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| With a heave and a haul and the shaking of nets
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| It’s when we’re at hauling we’re living on hope
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| The boy in the locker the lads on the ropes
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| The fellows in the hold to our hauling the nets
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| And shaking the herring out on to the deck
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| With a heave and a haul and the shaking of nets
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| It’s net after net we pull up from the sea
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| With a haul and a shake and a one, two and three
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| The herring are a piling around our sea boots
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| And slithering and sliding down into the shoots
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| With a heave and a haul and the shaking of nets
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| It’s hour after hour we are hauling away
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| All through the long night till the dawn of the day
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| The captain’s in the wheelhouse he’s on the RT
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| And the cook’s in the galley a brewing the tea
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| And we’re heaving and hauling and shaking of nets
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| Now the season is over so be on your way
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| And head for the home port to sign for your pay
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| Your missus will be waiting to welcome you home
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| It’s so hard for a wife to be so much alone
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| And you’re finished with heaving and hauling of nets |