My Donald

My Donald he works on the sea Where the waves they blow wild and free He splices the ropes, he sets the sail, Southward he goes, in search of the whale. He never thinks of me left behind Nor the torments that rage in my mind He's mine for only half part of the year Then leaves me behind, with nothing but a tear. Oh you ladies who smell the wild rose Think for the perfume to where a man goes Think of the women, the children that yearn For men never return from hunting the sperm. Oh my Donald he works on the sea Where the waves they blow wild and free He splices the ropes, he sets the sail, Southward he goes, in search of the whale. --- My Donald - Bert Jansch