Where do you go, little herring?
What do you see, tail-and-fin?
"Blue and green, cold and dark, seaweed growing high
Hills a hundred fathom deep where the dead men lie
Dogfish eyes and mackerels' eyes and, oh, they hunger after me
Net or weir, I don't care, catch me if you can"

Where do you go, little boat?
Tar and timber, plank and sail
"I go to green bays, I lift them under me
Cold grey combing seas, come to bury me
Rocky jaws and stony claws and, oh, they hunger after me
Harbors cold and deep and bold, wish that I could see"

What do you see, fisherman?
Poor old sailor, blood and bone
"Mackerel skies, mares' tales, reef and furl and steer
Poor haul and hungry days, rotten line and gear
Snow, wind and winter gales and, oh,  they hunger after me
Net or weir, I don't care, catch you if I can"

Where do you go, little herring?
What do you see, tail-and-fin?
"Blue and green, cold and dark, seaweed growing high
Hills a hundred fathom deep where the fishermen lie
Dogfish eyes and mackerels' eyes and, oh, they hunger after me
Net or weir, I don't care, catch me if you can"