Martin Byrne

FROM THE SLEEEPING TOWN OFSKERRIES

WHERE ST. PATRICK DID ABIDE

IN SEARCH OF SILVER TREASURE

WE SAILED THE MORNING TIDE

WE LEFT THE SUNLIGHT SHINING

O’ER THE STATELY HILLS AROUND

SOON WE’LL BE RETURNING

WITH TREASURE LOADED DOWN

HAUL AWAY HAUL AWAY

OUR NETS THEY ARE A HEAVIN’ HAUL AWAY

WE’VE DRAGGED HARD FOR A THOUSAND MILES

FROM JOHN’A’GROATS THRO THE WESTERN ISLES

NOW THEY ARE A HEAVIN’ HAUL AWAY

HAUL AWAY HAUL AWAY

THRO’ THE BLAZING DAYS OF SUMMER

AND WINTERS FREEZING SNOW

WE CHASE THE SHOAL OF HERRING

WHERE EVER THEY MAY GO

THE OCEAN IS OUR HIGHWAY

THO’ OFT TIMES IT IS WILD

WITH A FAIR WIND BEHIND US

WE’RE BLOWN FOR MANY A MILE

WHEN THE DARK NOVEMBER GALES

DRIVE US BACK TO SHORE

WE PASS THE TIME WITH STORIES

AND TALES OF FISHING LORE

WE CRIED WHEN THERE WAS BAD TIMES

AND LAUGHED WHEN THEY WERE GOOD

FOR A MAN CAN’T STAY ON DRY LAND

WHEN THE SEA IS IN HIS BLOOD

WORDS AND MUSIC BY MARTIN BYRNE