It was four and twenty years ago in search of fickle fame
I hit the road for faraway to make myself a name
I left behind my hooks and line, no more I'll run them down
And I said good-day to grey Lough Neagh where the dollaghan is found

The waves upon the ocean struck fear into my heart
I thought them retribution for my treachery to part
From hearth and home and family who grieved at my farewell
On that cruel day to grey Lough Neagh where the dollaghan does dwell

It's often at the peep of day I'd wake and make to rise
Before the sun in splendour was risen in the skies
For fishermen are up and out when all are fast asleep
To make their way across Lough Neagh to fish its waters deep

I've tunnelled and I've scaffolded and humped and hodded too
Of mud and blood and gutters, I could tell some tales to you
But damn thon oul' Dame Fortune, for she never took me in
And I cursed the day I left Lough Neagh where the dollaghan still swims

There's some who dream of silver and others dream of gold
And others dream of coortship, at least that's what I'm told
But often in the dead of night I dream I'm fishing yet
A fine Spring day on grey Lough Neagh hauling in a burstin' net

Oh God be good to fishermen and the Devil let them be
And don't let any fisherman come follow after me
For I've known heavy labour, aye and heavy misery
And times I pray for grey Lough Neagh where the dollaghan swims free

So fare thee well to Holloway, where I've squandered all my pay
I'm coming home to end my days beside the grey Lough Neagh
For I'll find no ease, no rest nor peace in all of London Town
There's sweet relief from pain and grief where the dollaghan is found