The fisherman are pitching pennies
in the sand beside the sea
the sunrise hits their oilskin boots
and their painted boats and me
they seem to know the ocean
like a man knows a woman
she makes him wait around for half the morning
for the tide to turn
Pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
never catches more than he knows
he can sell in a day;
pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
day's for work. night's the time to go dancing
They're drinking beer and laughing
and squinting at the sun
waiting for the gulls to tell them
when the fish will come
their faces brown and weathered
from all the nets they've run
they've learned to wait
they always know that the tide will turn
Pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
never catches more than he knows
he can sell in a day;
pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
day's for work. night's the time to go dancing
Way out on the ocean
the big ships hunt for whales
the japanese have caught so many
that now they hunt for snails
my fisherman's not greedy
he seems content to live
with the sun and the sand
and a net full of fish when the tide turns

pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
never catches more than he knows
he can sell in a day;
pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
day's for work. night's the time to go dancing
Pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
never catches more than he knows
he can sell in a day;
pull on the ropes, seine haul fisherman
day's for work. night's the time to go dancing