Come all you fisher lassies, it's come awa with me Fae Cairnbulg and Gamrie and fae Inverallochie, Frae Buckie and frae Aberdeen an' all the country roond We're awa to gut the herring, we're awa tae Yarmouth toon.
Oh, ye rise up in the morning wi' your bundles in your hand Be at the station early or you'll surely hae to stand Tak plenty to eat and a kettle for your tea Or you'll maybe die of hunger on the way to Yarmouth Quay.
Noo the journey it's a lang yen and it taks a day or twa And when you reach your lodging, sure it's soon asleep you'll fa' But you'll rise at five with the sleep still in your e'en You're awake to find the gutting yards along the Yarmouth quay.
Noo there's coopers, there are curers there and buyers, canny chiels And lassies at the pickle and others at the creels And you'll wish the fish had been all left in the sea By the time you finish guttin' herring on the Yarmouth quay.
Well, it's early in the morning, it's late into the nicht, Your hands are cut and chappit and they look an unco' sight And you greet like a ween when you put ‘em in the bree And you wish you were a thoosand mile awa from Yarmouth Quay.
Noo I've gutted fish in Lerwick and in Stornaway and Shields I've worked along the Humber ‘mongst the barrels and the creels Whitby, Grimsby, I've traivelled up and doon But the place to see the herring is the quay at Yarmouth Toon.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
