The boat lies South of Ailsa Craig in the waning of the light,
There's thirty men in Lendalfit to make our burdens light,
And there's thirty horse at Hazelholm, with the halters on their heids,
All set this night upon yon height, if wind and water speeds.
Smugglers drink of the Frenchman's wine,
And the darkest night is the smuggler's time.
Away we run from the excise man,
It's a smuggler's life for me, it's a smuggler's life for me.
Oh, lass ye hae a cosy bed and cattle ye have ten,