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Lyrics and Music: Harry Robertson

Oh the trawler wharf in Aberdeen
It’s a bonnie place tae be
When a force eight gale is blawin’
Oot upon the wild North Sea
And the wee tug battles fiercely
On a course that’s hard to find
Wi’ a floating dock that pitches
On a tow rope far behind.

Aye it’s cauld — bloody cauld
On the gie driech waters o’
The north-east Scottish coast.

Pounding seas come in frae starboard
And the wee tug slews tae port
And the tow rope breaks a stay wire
In the storm’s deadly sport
On the deck an able seaman
Fell down dead before he knew
What it was came oot the dark nicht
And it sliced his head in two.


There’s nae time to mourn a shipmate
Though his blood has stained the sea
It’s all hands tae fix the stay wire
And tae keep the tow rope free
For she’s dragging by the stern
And we’re shipping water green
And the risk o’ being washed awa’
It’s the worst I’ve ever seen.


It was up tae Invergordon
We were headed wi’ our tow
Thank the Christ we didna’ have to sail
North aboot tae Scapa Flow
As ye curse yer damp and heavy clathes
Oh your tired mind starts to dream
Of the comforts at the trawler wharf
In the port of Aberdeen.


© Harry Robertson
and subsequently ©1995 Mrs Rita Robertson, Brisbane, AUSTRALIA
Registered with APRA/AMCOS www.apra-amcos.com.au