(To the air of "The Song of the Bottle")
Up, up with the anchor,
Round, round for the harbour mouth!
Wind, boys, and a spanker
Racing due south!
Where 'ood you be going?
How, now can ye hoist your sails?
When blossoms be blowing
Over Welsh Wales!
Dear hearts for the herring,
Sure, after the herring,
Hot after the herring,
Each ship of us sails.
Up, up with the anchor,
Round, round for the harbour mouth!
Wind boys and a spanker,
Racing due south.
"Men, when you go rocking,
Out under the angry gale,
Wives' hearts begin knocking,
Lasses turn pale.
Oh, why start a-fishing
Far, far and across the foam?
Give way to our wishing;
Stay, stay at home!"
"Now, but for King Herring,
What 'ood you be wearing,
How 'ood you be faring
How keep ye warm?
Lest loaves should be failing,
Lest children for want take harm,
Men still will go sailing
Out into the storm."
Then men, since it must be,
Then men, since it must be so,
Christ, Christ shall our trust be,
When the winds blow.
Once when He was sleeping,
"Save Lord!" the disciples cried,
"Wild waters are leaping
Over the side!"
See He has awoken!
Hark, hark, He has spoken,
"Peace, peace," and in token
Down the storm died.
Lord God of the billows,
Still succour the fishing smack!
Give peace to our pillows,
Bring our men back!