If memory serves, it was published in Stokoe & Stokoe. The tune beibg a variant of Lord Derwentwater's Last Farewell.


The Auld Fishers Farewell to the Coquet.

Come bring to me my limber gad I’ve fished with mony a year,
And let me ha’e me weel-worn creel, an’ a’ my fishing gear.
The sunbeams glint on Linden Ha’, the breeze comes frae the west,
An’ lovely looks the gowden morn on the streams that I love best.

I’ve thrawn the flee thae sixty year, ay, sixty year an’ mair,
An’ mony a speckled Troutie killed wi’ heckle heuk an’ hair.
An’ now I’m auld and feeble grown, my locks are like the snaw,
But I’ll gang again to Coquet-side an’ take a fareweel thraw.

Coquet! In my youthful days they river sweetly ran,
An’ sweetly down thy woody braes the bonny birdies sang,
But streams may run, an birds may sing, sma’ joy they bring to me,
The blithesome strains I dimly hear, the streams I dimly see.

But ance again the weel-kenned sounds my minutes shall beguile,
An’ glistening in the airly sun I’ll see they waters smile,
An’ sorrow shall forget his sigh, an’ age forget his pain,
An’ ance mair by sweet Coquet-side my heart be young again.

Ance mair I’ll touch wi’ gleesome feet they waters clear and cold,
Ance mair I’ll cheat the gleg-e’e trout an wile him frae his hold,
Ance mair at Weldon’s Frien’ly door I’ll wind my tackle up,
And drink “Success to Coquet-side,” though a tear fa’ in the cup.

An’ then farewell, dear Coquet-side! Aye gaily may thou rin,
An’ lead thy waters sparkling on, an dash frae linn to linn.
Blithe be the music o’ thy streams an’ banks through after-days,
An’ blithe be every fisher’s heart shall ever tread thy braes.