The Long Line Fisherman Lyrics

Winter is upon us as the seasons slowly turn

Ice lies on the mountain loughs as the sheep they're gathered in

In November skies the sun lies low, wild geese fly and the cold winds blow

The long line fisherman then goes where Mourne shore waters ebb and flow

He's a farmer from the Longstone at the haggard and the drills

He's a stone man up on Seefin cutting granite from the hills

He's handy at the dealing at the market and the fair

But he plows the salt sea ocean at this time of the year

So hand me down me sea boots, hand me down me long lines

Look to the sky for a fair wind

Keep a light on in the window to guide us as we roam

Like the harbour light let it shine out bright and see us safely home

Down the frosted midnight lane in silence deep where senses strain

Like some wandering refugee he makes his way down to the sea

Past the ancient fairy thorn where moonbeams light its twisted form

He answers to the endless call of the restless tide and its rise and fall

At first of flood and the moon on the rise he shoots his lines across the tide

And finds the shoal at the edge of the dark where the waves run strong near the Bleach Yards mark

Here the souls of fishermen they roam upon the deep

While he who lived to tell the tale, his lonely vigil keeps

So sing a song in memory of the men who put to sea

From Newcastle and Annalong in the winter of '43

Well they knew the dangers and the hardships that they faced

Seventy-three the sea it claimed all lost without a trace

Drifting in the crimson dawn he watches as the day is born

Then turns again to face the land where mountains meet the long sea strand

He sees the old ways changing, soon to disappear

The trawlers they're all moving in and the fishing grounds they'll clear

Now some they call it progress, some they call it need

Some call it prosperity while others call it greed

But one thing it's for certain and no man can deny

The memory of those long line men might fade but never die

So batten down the hatches, run before the wind

We're in for heavy weather boys, it's time we headed in

Set a course that's homeward bound, find shelter from the storm

The harbour lights are calling on the misty shores of Mourne