My Donald he works on the sea On the waves that blow wild and free He splices the ropes and sets the sails While southward he rolls tae the home o the whale He ne'er thinks o me far behind Or the torments that rage in my mind He's mine for only half part o the year Then I'm left all alane wi nowt but a tear Ye ladies wha smell o wild rose Think ye for your perfume tae whaur a man goes Think ye o the wives and the bairnies wha yearn For a man ne'er returnin frae huntin the sperm