Fareweel tae Tarwathie, adieu, Mormond Hill,
And the dear land o' Crimond, I bid you fareweel.
I am bound now for Greenland and ready to sail,
In hopes to find riches a-hunting the whale.
Our ship is weel-rigged and ready to sail,
Our crew they are anxious to follow the whale,
Where the icebergs do float and the stormy winds blaw,
And the land and the ocean are covered wi' snaw.
The cold coast o' Greenland is barren and bare,
No seed-time nor harvest is ever known there,
And the birds here sing sweetly on mountain and dale,
But there isna a birdie tae sing tae the whale.
There is no habitation for a man to live there,
And the king of that country is the wild Greenland bear,
And there'll be no temptation to tarry long there,
With our ship bumper full we will homeward repair.