Here is the song from the broadside at the Bodleian ballad collection - Harding B 11(1436). I decided to transcribe this one exactly as I see it, without correcting any spelling or punctuation, since it contains so many terms I am unfamiliar with.


THE GRIMSBY FISHERMAN

I'm a rarem tarem Fisherman, that sail from Grimsby town,
And in the "Lion" and "Kitching," I've had many up and down,
But when I've spent my stocker-bait, and had a little spree,
Then away I crack on board a Smack to plow the stormy sea,

CHORUS:
Then watch us, twig us, we'r a popular juba jue,
Give her sheet & let her rip, we're the boys to put her through,
You ought to see her rally and the wind a blowing free,
On the passage from the Fisher-bank to Great Grimsby.

Our Skipper's a Shangi roster that loves a drop of good ale,
Our second addition's a rip-stone pippin, that's seen the inside of a jail,
Our Third-hand's been a bush ranger the Dickey as came from the diles,
And to judge from his looks I am certain our Cook is a native of African wilds.

From the captain down to the caili Cook, we're a Vandedecken crew,
A Liverpool Irish packet rat and a son of a Kangroo;
We've got one of the Forty-thieves, a Ben digo Birmingham hoop,
And in every ring-tail Monkey-man you'd recognize our cook.

When we get a trip on board, for Grimsby town we steer,
The only thing that's in our head is Mrs, Sargeant's beer,
We crack on all the canvas boys, & battle through every gale,
Until the Spurm is left astern, and then we take in sail

Sailing over the Dogger-Bank, isn't it a treat,
And the wind being from the E. N, E., we had to give her sheet,
We were running wing and wing until we sighted Cleethorpe pier,
And when the voyage is ended we're the boys to gobble beer.

We are the boys to make a noise, when we come home from sea,
Like Pell Mells Swells we booze the girls and cause a jubilee,
We'd dance and shout and halloo out and roll about on the floor,
Until our rent is all spent and then we book for more.