My Donald he works on the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes and sets the sails
While southward he rolls tae the home o the whale

He ne'er thinks o me far behind
Or the torments that rage in my mind
He's mine for only half part o the year
Then I'm left all alane wi nowt but a tear

Ye ladies wha smell o wild rose
Think ye for your perfume tae whaur a man goes
Think ye o the wives and the bairnies wha yearn
For a man ne'er returnin frae huntin the sperm