Rachel Unthank & The Winterset
my donald
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My Donald, he works on the sea
On the waves that blow wild and free
He splices the ropes and sets the sails
As southwards he rolls to the home of the whale
And he nev' thinks on me far behind
Nor the torments that rage in my mind
He's mine for only half part of the year
And I'm left all alone with naught but a tear
My Donald, he works on the sea...
You ladies who smell of wild rose
Think you on your perfume on where the man goes
Think you on the wives and the bairns left at yearn
And a man not returning from hunting the sperm
My Donald, he works on the sea...