GUEST?
I don't think it's online anywhere yet. Here it is anyway. Tune should be obvious to anyone who knows anything about folk music.

When I was a youngster and life being dull,
On a sidewinder trawler I sailed out of Hull;
We slid down the Humber on a southerly breeze
And pointed her nose for the cold Arctic seas.
             Deckie down, down, down, deckie, down.

To get to the Arctic it took us five days,
We were steamin' along in the sea's heavy sprays,
But you can't shoot yer nets in the teeth of a gale
When you're bobbin' about like a barrel of ale.

When you get up to Iceland there's no time to play,
For eighteen long hours you're on deck every day,
A man turns the winch while the rest haul the gear,
And the men by the gallows they know little fear.

When you're haulin' the nets you lean ovver the side,
The waves sweep the deck, it's a hell of a ride,
But you must watch yer fingers as the bobbins come in
Or all you'll have left is a lump o' raw skin.

The cod-end is swingin' and hoverin' about,
The mate pulls a cord and the catch it spews out,
Then you're cuttin' and guttin' with a clean and sharp knife.
You've onny two hours and you gut for your life.

The guttin' is done at a hell of a pace,
The guts from the fish fly all ovver the place;
Then it's off down the chute to the fishroom they go
While the mate is a-stowin' the catch down below.

The spray turns to ice and it builds up so quick,
In no time at all it is four inches thick;
Then it's all hands on deck as we need every man,
And don't mind the frostbite and chop while you can.

We're shootin' the nets till the fishroom is full,
Then it's clean all the gear and we're headin' for Hull,
But sometimes the spray and the ice take their toll,
And it's ovver she goes and the devil take all.

Doesn't look right in printed words and needs to be sung in a coarse 'Ull accent. It's on Spare Hands last album called 'Spare Hands'. The kids are doing a project on the Triple Trawler Disaster by the way.