Come a' ye fisher lassies, it's come awa' wi' me,

                                        Fae Cairnbulg and Gamrie and fae Inverallochie,

                                        Fae Buckie and fae Aberdeen and a' the country roon,

                                        We're awa' tae gut the herrin', we're awa' tae Yarmouth toon.

 

                                        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 mebbe die of hunger on the way to Yarmouth quay.

 

                                        The journey it's a lang ane and it tak's a day or twa,

                                        And when you reach your lodgin's sure it's soond asleep you fa',

                                        But ye rise at five wi' the sleep still in your e'e,

                                        You're awa' tae find the gutting yards along frae Yarmouth quay. 

 

                                        It's early in the morning and it's late into the nicht,

                                        Your hands a' cut and chappit and they look an unco' sicht,

                                        And you greet like a wean when you put them in the bree,

                                        And you wish you were a thoosand mile awa' frae 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 the fish had been a' left 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,

                                        Warked along the Humber 'mongst the barrels and the creels;

                                        Whitby, Grimsby, we've traivelled up and doon,

                                        But the place to see the herrin' is the quay at Yarmouth toon.

 

 

Footnote : This song was featured in 'Singing The Fishing', one of the famous radio-ballad series ( 1957-1964 ), made for the BBC by Ewan MacColl, Peggy Seeger and Charles Parker. Based on the east coast herring fishing communities 'Singing The Fishing' was first broadcast on the BBC Home Service on 16 August 1960. In October 1960 it won the Prix d'Italia ( the prestigious 'Academy Award' of the day for the radio medium ) and was eventually transmitted in 86 countries. The eight radio-ballads were released on CD by Topic ( c1999 ).