The boat rides south of Aisla Craig in the waning o' the light
there's thirty men in Lendal Fit tae make our burden bright.
(And) there's thirty horse in Hazel Holm with their halters on their heads
we'n nep this night upon your fight if wind and water speed.
Chorus:
Smugglers drink of the Frenchman's wine
and the darkest night is the smugglers' time
Away we run from the exciseman,
: it's the smugglers life for me. :
O lass, you hae a cosy bed and cattle ye hae ten
can you not live a lawful life and live with lawful men?
But must I use our hamely goods while there's foreign gear sae fine,
must I drink at the waterside and France ae full of wine?
Oh, weel, I like tae see ye Kate, with a bernie on my knee.
But my heart is now with a gallant crew that plough throu' the angry sea.
The bitter gale, the tightest sail and the sheltered bay our goal.
It's a wayward life, it's the smuggler's strife, it's the joy of the smuggler's soul.
And when at last the dawn comes up and the cargo safely stored,
like sinless saints to church we'll go God's mercy to afford.
And it's campagne fine for communion wine and the parsons drink it too.
With a sly wink prays: "Forgive these men, for they know not what they do!".