Come all you jolly fishermen and listen to my song,
In language I'll explain to you, it won't delay me long;
It's education I have none and the grammar I don't use,
But if this don't suit the company my own mind I will choose.
The Carey being our schooner's name as you may understand,
With a crowd of brave young fishermen brought up in Newfoundland;
Mike Coughlin being our skipper's name, Sam Smithson being our mate,
And Harris being the owner I'm sorry to relate.
It was on a Monday morning we got her under way,
All to look for a baiting down in Conception Bay;
We understood in Burin, we took our bait in there,
And when we arrived in Holyrood twenty thousand was our share.
So when we arrived in Carbonear our skipper he went on shore,
For to see the girl he was going with when he was there before;
Two men all in a motorboat they came out from the shore,
They told us that the fish was dry down on the Labrador.
Early next morning we got her under way,
For three long days and three long nights we beat out of the Bay;
For three long days and three long nights we beat the Southern Shore,
And we swore to God we'd never live to see old Labrador.
Early next morning so loud our cook did shout,
"Heave out and get your breakfast, b'ys, he's going to toss you out."
We worked and sawed those cod-jiggers until our hands got sore,
Which made us curse the first man that sailed on the Labrador.
What a foolish understanding for any man to do,
To take a load of cod-jiggers to supply a banker's crew;
If we'd took a load of otter traps, leaved our cod-jiggers on shore,
We'd have stood a chance for a load of fur down on the Labrador.