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