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Golden Bough - Song of the Fisher Lassies/Blast of Wind lyrics
Come all you fisher lassies, it's come awa' with me, From Cairnbulg and Gamrie and from INerallochie, From Buckie and from Aberdeen and all the country round, We're awa' to gut the herrin', we're awa' to Yarmouth town. Rise up in the morning with your bundles in your hand, Be at the station early or you'll surely have to stand, Take pleanty for to eat and a kettle for your tea, Or you'll maybe die of hunger on the way to Yarmouth quay. The journey it's a long one and it takes a day or twa, And when you reach your lodgings, sure it's sound asleep you fall, But you'll rise up in the morning with the sleep all in your e'e, And you're off to find the gutting yards along the Yarmouth quay. It's early in the morning and it's late into the night, Your hands all cut and chappit and they look an aweful sight, And you weep like a wean when you put them in the bree, And you wish you were a thousand miles away from Yarmouth quay. There's coopers there and curers there and buyers, canny chiels, And lassies at the pickling and others at the creels, And you'll wish that the fish had all been left out in the sea, By the time you finish guttin' herrin' on the Yarmouth quay. We've gutted fish in Lerwick and in Stornoway and Shields, Worked along the Humber 'mongst the barrels and the creels; Whitsby, Grimsby, we've traveled up and down, But the place to see the herrin' is the quay at Yarmouth town. |
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