Saying Goodbye To The Sea

There was never much romance in fishing - that's just trawlermen's talk in the bar
It was mostly low pay, and at the end of the day it was dangerous, dirty and hard
There were times when we made a good living, now we can’t make ends meet like we could;
I'm up to my neck, so I'm clearing the deck – getting out while the going is good.


I’m saying goodbye to the seas, lads, saying goodbye to the sea,
Goodbye to the fishing, goodbye to the nets; the nearer it comes, lads, the harder it gets;
When you’re sailing her out for the grounds, lads, you’ll be sailing her out without me,
There’s a lump in me throat as I’m burning my boat and I’m saying goodbye to the sea.


I don’t mind the back-breaking labour, and I don’t mind the weeks out from home;
I don’t expect catches where you can’t close the hatches – I know that the old days are gone;
I’m sick of this scrimping and saving, and the bankers that make your life hell;
And the ministry fools with their quotas and rules, and the Frenchies just pleasing themselves.


I’m saying goodbye to the seas, lads, saying goodbye to the sea,
Goodbye to the fishing, goodbye to the nets; the nearer it comes, lads, the harder it gets;
When you’re sailing her out for the grounds, lads, you’ll be sailing her out without me,
There’s a lump in me throat as I’m burning my boat and I’m saying goodbye to the sea.


It’s nine-to-five Monday to Friday – with me clock-card I’m a cog in the wheel,
With butties and flask and some trivial task for some bonny lad with a degree;
He’d not last a couple of minutes on the dark rolling deck of a trawler,
For where computers are king he’s the ruler of things, but me I’m just a fish out of water.


I’m saying goodbye to the seas, lads, saying goodbye to the sea,
Goodbye to the fishing, goodbye to the nets; the nearer it comes, lads, the harder it gets;
When you’re sailing her out for the grounds, lads, you’ll be sailing her out without me,
There’s a lump in me throat as I’m burning my boat and I’m saying goodbye to the sea.