I’m a deckie on a side winder

A rough and brutal life 

Which is sometimes reflected in 

The way I treat my family and wife.

And the fast blacks queue for me

Eager to take my trade

And the pubs welcome me for 

Their share of what I’ve made.

And they say we are heroes, 

Us of the deep sea fishing fleet

In our powder blue suits with

Brothel creepers on our feet.

Three day millionaires they call us

But do they ever stop to think

Why I fill my life ashore

With company and drink.

Sometimes when the catch is low

Or when the market price is bad

I owe the owners money when they

Claim back allowances the family had;

Then we exist on the talleyman, 

Or, what I really hate,

Beg at Myton Street Social 

For a hand out from the state.

Three days between trips

Three days to try and live

Then it’s back on board where 

They take all I have to give.

Seventeen fisher lives gone

For every miner’s life lost

All for  cheap fish and taties;

Do they add that to the cost.

I’m a deckie on a sidewinder, which

Can be a seaborne life of hell

But when the catch is good boys

Me and my family live so well.