Barbara Dickson

My Donald


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My Donald he works on the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes and sets the sails
While southwards he rolls to the land of the whale

He ne'er thinks of me far behind
Or the torments that rage in my mind
He is mine for only half part of the year
Then I'm left alone wi' nocht but a tear

My Donald he works on the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes and sets the sails
While southwards he rolls to the land of the whale

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 returns from hunting the sperm

My Donald he works on the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes and sets the sails
While southwards he rolls to the home of the whale

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