What care we though white the sea is?
What care we for wind or weather?
Let her go boys, ev’ry inch is
wearing home, home to Mingulay.
Hill ya ho, boys, let her go boys.
Bring her head ‘round, now all together.
Hill ya ho, boys, let her go, boys,
sailing home to Mingulay.
Wives are waiting on the bank, boys,
looking seaward from the heather.
Pull her ‘round, boy, and we’ll anchor,
‘ere the sun sets at Mingulay.
Refrain (fade out)