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When the morning comes on and the moon goes astray,
The men in the harbour prepare a new day;
The fog in the distance soon colours the sun,
But that doesn't matter, there's work to be done.
The engines are waiting one after one,
As the boats leave their collars for another day's run;
And in minutes the harbour is silent and bare,
As time keeps on turning they soon disappear.
So, heave away, haul away, look to the sea,
Ye men of this island so wild and so free;
Heave away, haul away, look to the sea,
Ye men of this island so dauntless and free.
As their forefathers taught them how to be brave,
While hauling their day's catch they're nobody's slave;
Some days are in favour and more in despair,
But those men understand if the fish is not there.
The wives are at home preparing the feed,
For their hard working fishermen out on the sea;
They're hoping today is the best one of all,
For some clothing and food for their kids in the fall.
So, heave away, haul away, look to the sea,
Ye men of this island so wild and so free;
Heave away, haul away, look to the sea,
Ye men of this island so dauntless and free.
Now the day will soon come when they're three score and ten,
But by that time their sons will have all grown to men;
Their seines tell the story of a hard working man,
Their hands are all calloused and their skin rough and tan.
So, heave away, haul away, look to the sea,
Ye men of this island so wild and so free;
[FADING]
Heave away, haul away, look to the sea....
