Tarwathie, adieu Mormond Hill
And the dear land o' Crimond, I'll bid ye fareweel
I'm bound out for Greenland get ready to sail
In hopes to find riches a-hunting the whale.
Our ship is
well rigged and she's ready to sail
Our crew, they are anxious to follow the whale
Where the icebergs do float and the stormy winds blow
Where the land and the ocean are covered with show.
my comrades, from you I must part
And likewise the dear lass what fair won my heart
But the cold ice of Greenland will not my heart chill
And the longer my absence, more loving she'll feel.
This cold land
of Greenland is barren and bare
No seed time nor harvest is ever known there
And the birds here sing sweetly o´er mountain and dale
But there isn't a birdie to sing tae the whale.