The Devil Down Below

I used to be a fisherman, on the icy crests we'd ride Like a banshee on the wind, we'd sail the ocean wide From the shoals of Yarmouth bay to Newfoundland we'd go And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below Out to the snows of Greenland, into the screaming gale Out into the storm, chasing down the whale When the harpoon struck, the mighty fish would blow And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below In our bunks, we'd find no solace, no comfort, just remorse We'd curse at the bad fortune that had set us on this course Gathered 'round the lamplight, we'd sing both high and low And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below From the rocks of Lizard Reef to Plymouth, we are bound The skipper's yelling blood, as the jagged cliffs we round Jack Duggan in the foresail, Billy Reilly in the crow And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below Only when we'd quenched this mighty vessel's appetite Would the captain tell us lads, "We'll be going home tonight" We'd turn to the raging sea and we'd raise our fists and yell "You won't be seein' us today, you won't be seein' us in Hell" Once ashore, we'd head into the pub for a tankard full of ale One day would turn into a week, and time would come to sail We'd say goodbye to the girls we loved, and off from shore we'd go And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below