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Oh, me name it is Coté, me boys,
Me age is fifty-three;
For twenty-five or thirty years,
I fished upon the seas.
But now it seems a waste of time,
The catches they grow small;
The foreigners take the bigger fish,
And throw back all the small.
Oh we're rollin' on the sea, me boys,
We're rollin' on the sea;
We'll catch the fish,
And then we'll bitch;
We're rollin' on the sea.
Well, hear the politicians,
They're crapping on us all;
But they never froze their asses off,
While pullin' up the trawl.
Nor ate a soggy sandwich,
Then lost it over the side;
Then spent four hours comin' home,
A rollin' in the tide.
Oh we're rollin' on the sea, me boys,
We're rollin' on the sea;
We'll catch the fish,
And then we'll bitch;
We're rollin' on the sea.
Well, don't misunderstand me now,
It's not that bad, you know;
I could have been a lumberjack,
Or a miner down below.
At least I have a few cold months,
To mend my nets and traps;
To drink the rum and figure how,
To stiff the income tax.
Oh we're rollin' on the sea, me boys,
We're rollin' on the sea;
We'll catch the fish,
And then we'll bitch;
We're rollin' on the sea.
Recorded by Brakin' Tradition (Songs Of The Sea, Stephen MacDonald Productions). Also recorded by The Masterless Men (On The Run, Landwash Distribution Company Ltd., St. John's, NL, 2002).
