The Devil Down Below

I used to be a fisherman, on the icy crests we'd ride
Like a banshee on the wind, we'd sail the ocean wide
From the shoals of Yarmouth bay to Newfoundland we'd go
And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below

Out to the snows of Greenland, into the screaming gale
Out into the storm, chasing down the whale
When the harpoon struck, the mighty fish would blow
And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below

In our bunks, we'd find no solace, no comfort, just remorse
We'd curse at the bad fortune that had set us on this course
Gathered 'round the lamplight, we'd sing both high and low
And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below

From the rocks of Lizard Reef to Plymouth, we are bound
The skipper's yelling blood, as the jagged cliffs we round
Jack Duggan in the foresail, Billy Reilly in the crow
And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below

Only when we'd quenched this mighty vessel's appetite
Would the captain tell us lads, "We'll be going home tonight"
We'd turn to the raging sea and we'd raise our fists and yell
"You won't be seein' us today, you won't be seein' us in Hell"

Once ashore, we'd head into the pub for a tankard full of ale
One day would turn into a week, and time would come to sail
We'd say goodbye to the girls we loved, and off from shore we'd go
And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below
And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout, shout at the Devil down below