Come All Ye Fisher Lassies

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.

• Artist:Ray Fisher
• Album:The Fisher Family