22 - 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, we 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 awak to find the gutting yards along the Yarmouth quay.

Now 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 a nasty 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 we’ve gutted fish in Lerwick and in Stornaway and Shields,
Worked all on the Humber ’mongst the barrels and the creels,
Whitby, Grimsby, we’ve traivelled up and doon,
But the place to see the herring is the quay at Yarmouth Toon.

women_on_the_shore
herring
fishing
Scotland
non-male_writer
non-male_narrator
Northeast_England