Salt From Our Veins

Well, the ropes are all tangled and tied

The throb of red diesel it whines

Past the still snoring town

We elbow around

For many’s the nights we will claim

To drain all the salt from our veins

The captain, a round-headed man

With drunken tattoos he commands

In the wheelhouse he sits

With both eyes transfixed

For many’s the night he will claim

To drain all the salt from our veins

Crunching blocks and grinding old gears

As the winch draws, our signal is cleared

Nets open wide, this purse is our prize

A hundredweight falls from the chains

As we drain all the salt from our veins

Four trawls a day we are set

And only half of all caught now are kept

Slick, slime and tails

All bloodshot and pale

For many’s the night we will pray

We won’t drain all the salt from our veins