This is the version I do - bastardised from two different sources (one in DT) with some bits re-invented by mistake. The tune is "Handsome Cabin Boy".


Come all ye noble mariners and hearken unto me.
It is a little ditty that I would relate to ye,
Concerning they bold fisherfolk who sail the seas so wet,
A-hunting for fish fingers with a harpoon and a net.

'Twas in the year of 39, or p'raps it were 93,
We set sail out of Basingstoke bound for Amerikee,
The winds they was a rage-y-ing and the waves a fearful height,
It took us forty days, me lads, to reach the Isle of Wight.

Our captain's name was Gladys, and he wore a dress of red,
Which may have been the reason that he was not marr-y-ed,
He was a gay old sea-bitch, and it was his special joy,
To take a turn around the deck with the handsome cabin boy.

Two hundred miles off Iceland's shores, a mighty shoal we spied
Of froz-y-en fish fingers all a-ready to be fried,
We swiftly manned our longboat and upon that shoal we burst,
But we were too late, the Chinese takeaway had got there first.

The slant-eyed yellow heathens, they were a fearful crew,
A-brandishing transistors and making with the old Kung Fu,
We sang them a sea shant-y-ee but they did not want to know,
And their skipper felled our mizzen mast with one karate blow.

We got back home to England in a twelvemonth and a day,
It would have been much quicker but we went the pretty way,
No more we'll go fishfingering off Iceland's icy shore,
Next year we'll hunt beefburgers on the plains of Ilkley Moor.