Written by Ewan McColl (c) 1959
To the North Sea we’re faring
To that wide and wasteful ocean
Casting our nets, reaping the harvest of the deep
While we hun the bonnie shoals of Herring
Oh it was a bright and a summers morn
It was from Yarmouth harbour I was faring
As a cabin boy on a sailing lugger
We were going to hunt the shoal of herring
Oh the hours were long and the wages bad
And the treatment surely took some bearing
There was little kindness and the kicks were many
While we hunted for the shoals of Herring
Well we fished the swab and the broken bank
And I was cook and I the quarters sharing
And I used to sleep standing on my feet
Dreaming of the silver shoals of herring
Now your up on deck and you’re a fisherman
You can swear and show a manly bearing
Take your watch on deck with the other fellas
As you hunt the bonnie shoals of herring
Now you’re a net rope man, boy you’re on the go
And you’re learning all about sea faring
For your education scraps of navigation
As you hunt the bonnie shoals of herring
And we fished the home grounds in the month of june
Then for cannie sheals we soon was bearing
With a hundred crown of those silver darlings
That were taken from the shoals of herring
Through them wild seas and them living gales
Just to earn our daily bread were faring
From the Dover straights to the Faeroe Islands
Just to hunt the bonnie shoals of Herring
Yes I earned me keep and I earned my pay
And I earned the gear that I was wearing
I sailed a million miles and caught ten million fishes
That were taken from the shoals of Herrings
Through night and day the seas we’re bearing
Come winter’s Gale or stormy weather
Sweating and cold, growing up growing old
And dying while we hunt the bonnie shoals herring