All who want to Iceland go,
For the catching of the cod,
And to fish with desire,
To Iceland, to Iceland, to Iceland,
Thirty-three voyages and we're not yet weary.
When the time comes for us to be paid,
We dance with happiness,
None of us complaining,
But when we have to go to sea, go to sea,
Then is our head heavy with care.
When the wind blows from the north,
We go to the inn,
And we drink without thinking,
There we drink at our ease,
Till the last coin is spent.
When the wind blows from the east,
The skipper's glad in his heart,
Saying, "That wind it plays us tricks,
It will be better, it will be better,
To sail before the wind through the Channel."
"Pass the Lizard and the Scillies beond,
From there to Cape Clear,
If you don't know the route you will soon learn.
Then comes the mate, comes the mate,
Giving us the course straight to Iceland.
We'll pass the isle of Rockall,
From the great crowds of birds,
It will be clear where we are,
And onward, onward to Breidifjord.
Where we'll put the lines out.
At last we arrive in Iceland,
Ready to catch cod,
And to fish with pleasure,
To Iceland, to Iceland,
Thirty-three trips and we're still not tired.