The Book of Scottish Song/We'll go to sea no more

We'll go to sea no more.

[From the "Odd Volume—Second Series," by the Misses Corbet.]

Oh! blythly shines the bonnie sun
⁠Upon the Isle of May,
And blythly comes the morning tide
⁠Into St. Andrew's bay;
Then up, gudeman—the breeze is fair;
⁠And up my braw bairns three,—
There's goud in yonder bonnie boat
⁠That sails so well the sea!
⁠When haddocks leave the Firth of Forth,
⁠And mussels leave the shore;
⁠When oysters climb up Berwick Law,
⁠We'll go to sea no more,
⁠No more,
⁠We'll go to sea no more.

I've seen the waves as blue as air,
⁠I've seen them green as grass;
But I never feared their heaving yet
⁠From Grangemouth to the Bass.
I've seen the sea as black as pitch,
⁠I've seen it white as snow;
But I never feared its foaming yet.
⁠Though the winds blew high or low.
⁠When squalls capsize our wooden walls,
⁠When the French ride at the Nore,
⁠When Leith meets Aberdour half-way.
⁠We'll go to sea no more,
⁠No more,
⁠Well go to sea no more.

I never liked the landsman's life,
⁠The earth is aye the same;
Gi'e me the ocean for my dower,
⁠My vessel for my hame.
Gi'e me the fields that no man ploughs,
⁠The farm that pays no fee;
Gi'e me the bonnie fish that glance
⁠So gladly through the sea.
⁠When sails hang flapping on the masts,
⁠Though, through the waves we snore;
⁠When in a calm we're tempest tost,
⁠We'll go to sea no more,
⁠No more,
⁠We'll go to sea no more.

The sun is up, and round Inchkeith,
⁠The breezes saftly blaw;
The gudeman has the lines on board,—
⁠Awa', my bairns, awa'!
And ye'll be back by gloaming gray,
⁠And bright the fire will low;
And in our tales and sangs we'll tell
⁠How weel the boat ye row.—
⁠When life's last sun gangs feebly down,
⁠And death comes to our door—
⁠When a' the warld's a dream to us,
⁠We'll go to sea no more,
⁠No more,
⁠We'll go to sea no more.

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