Smugglers

The boat rides south o' Ailsa Craig in the waning of the light.

There's 30 men in lendlefit tae mak oor burden light.

And there's 30 horse at Hazlehome wi' the halters on their heads.

An' set this night upon your height thro' wind and water speed.

Smugglers drink of the Frenchman's wine,

The darkest night is the smugglers' time.

Away we run fae the exciseman.

It's a smuggler's life for me,

It's a smuggler's life for me.

O weel I like tae see ye Kate wi a bairnie on yer knee

But my heart is now wi' the gallant crew that sail thro' the angry see.

The bitter gale, the tightest sail, that sheltered bay our goal.

It's a wayward life, a smuggler's strife, the joy o' the smuggler's soul.

O' lass you hae a cosy bed and cattle ye hae ten

But can you no live a lawful life and live wi' lawful men.

Ah but ye may live wi' hamely goods when foreign gear's sae fine.

Must you drink at the waterside when France is fu' o' wine.

And when at last the sun comes up wi' the cargo safely stored.

Like sinless saints to the church we'll go, God's mercy to afford.

And it's champagne fine for communion wine, the parson drinks it too.

Wi' a sly wink prays forgive these men, for they know not what they do.