The Trawlerman

As you sit down for your tea, take a moment to think of me I am the one who leaves the quay, to bring home harvest from the sea Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel Biting wind and roaring gale, I risk it all when I set sail The quota’s nearly done for me, too many a catch thrown back to sea The jobs-worth from the ministry, care’s nothing for my misery Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel Biting wind and roaring gale, I risk it all when I set sail The sea cares nothing for my fate, the ebbing tide will never wait There’s not enough to fill a crate, as I battle Neptune to fill your plate Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel Biting wind and roaring gale, I risk it all when I set sail When deep-sea fish no longer spawn, when my rusty old trawler has been withdrawn When fishermen are no longer born and the old Sowester’s no longer worn Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and jellied eel I trawl the waves from dusk ‘til dawn; there’ll be no fish cakes when I am gone!