When wins blaw hard oot frae the East
Along the Shores o’ Fife,
They’re snell and cauld tae say the least,
An cut ye like a knife.
But looder though the wins may blaw
An’ waves may higher rise an’ fa’
An’ crash against the auld SeaWa’,
It brings the coal.
Oot in the Firth there is a seam
The e’en o’ men ha’e never seen:
Only the sea in her mad teen
Can bring it in.
Oh, some wid say it’s frae the bing,
But ony wee storm can bring that in.
The precious stuff of which I sing
The real sea coal.
Those big black diamonds roon and bricht,
That gi’e oor hooses heat an’ licht,
That burns richt doon till oot o’ sicht,
Till nocht but pooder.
For coal like this was never houkit
Nae horse nor cairt was ever youkit
Tae tak’ it tae the bing and coup it,
It’s God’s ain coal.
Hark, there’s a steer in oor Lang Toon,
Frae door tae door the word gans roon,
“The sea again has gi’en her boon
O’ guid sea coal.”
Then oot frae vennel, wynd an pen,
Frae Templeha’ an’ Pannie Den,
Frae Cooncil hoose an’ but-an-ben,
Tae reap the harvest.
They come wi’ lorries, cairts and prams,
Wi’ shoogly barrows withoot trams,
Even Grannies wi’ their jeely pans,
Tae pick the best.
So let us bless this timeless sea
That brings the coal tae you and me
And drink a toast wi’ bumpers three,
For guid sea coal.
