My name is Jim Parkinson, how's where I'm from?
Some call me a hero, some call me a bum
But I'll sing you a song, the way songs should be sung
Of the heroes that fished off of Iceland
Talk of your soldiers, your sailors so fine
Young men in the steelworks, your lads down the mine
But there's many's the hero that's wasted his pride
Catching cod off the cold coasts of Iceland
Have three fingers missing, now ain't that a shame
And your left leg is gammy, that means that I'm lame
It's a small price to pay, to be part of the game
Catching cod off the cold coasts of Iceland
It's bye-bye St Andrews, as we head for the ground
Where the cob and the haddock and them redfish are found
Then it's out with the gear and we work the clock round
Catching cod off the cold coasts of Iceland
Now your wages are gambled, so you earn all you can
There's rules to be broken, so you break every one
And you stand and you freeze, and kid on you're a man
Catching cod off the cold coasts of Iceland
And when the trip's over, and Sinbad's ashore
You'll drink a few pints, and then have a few more
Then it's home to the missus, or else visit some *
To forget about fishing off Iceland
Then came the cod wars, and we lost every round
And the fishing was over, for we lost the best round
And a cloud of despondency fell on the town
No more fishing for cod off of Iceland
But now on the dock, where the trawlers were seen
In cod glass and concrete, a brand new museum
It's called Trawling Deep Water, GB, PLC
And all of me heroes are memories