There's Skipper Obe, he minds the time
When swiles came into shore
And men and boys were towing swiles
For most two weeks or more.

And Sam sat on the blubber barrel
Says times are na'ar bit the same
The birds don't fly like long ago
When in the bight they came.

They used to come in girt big flights
The turrs and bull birds too
Then seven eight guns would loudly roar
Then haste to load anew.

Big Bill he gets his baccy out
Cuts off a girt big snog
And tucks it deep within his cheek
He'd bet each man a bob

That fish won't be no price the year
Its plain as plain can be
Don't know as I gonna catch arr tail
T'is lumberwoods vur me.

But Skipper Si he thinks it will
And he put out three trawls
The fish are workin' in again
And traps are getting' hauls.

The fish are gone off in the deep
Ar man can see it plain
They'm gutted on the caplin, boy
But they'll come in again.

Jis wait till they get hungry Garge
Then they'll eat bait, you see
Big Bill jis wants to sit and chaw
Don't give no heed to he.

Now now, me sons that's na'ar bit sense
T'aint no good to quarrell
What's it no? T'is Sam you say
Fell in the blubber barrel

The argument it waxes hot
And when they get in a rage
T'would fairly singe your whiskers off
Down Obediah's Stage