Come all you young fellows that's bound to a trade,
And lay down your spanner, your pen and your spade,
Join in with me now ere your bloom starts to fade,
And I'll show you a life that's worth living.

And law is against us and dangers we'll find,
Over roads, lakes, and valleys, your engines will whine,
Forsake your safe job and throw care to the wind,
Run as free as the hare on the mountain.

I'll show you a life in the dead of the night,
When the rain's lashing down and the wind's like a knife,
And manys the dawn you will spend in full flight,
As the mists curling over the mountain.

The roads unapproved and thе country looks dead,
Reliable sourcеs say "Rats are in bed",
Stamp your foot on the brake, douse your lights, look ahead,
Their flashlamps are out to destroy you.

You've all heard of traitors and spies of ill fame,
Informers who don't know the meaning of shame,
To outwit these pimps in the smuggling game,
You in secret and quite single handed.

They're sleekit, they're greedy, no respect for the law,
For Queen's regulations they bon't give a straw,
But they're snooping around for a stray word to fall,
For a few dirty shillings they'd sink you.

The story is finished and old days are done,
For smuggling declines like the late setting sun,
The tariffs are threatened, free trades nearly won,
Aye, and soon there won't be any customs.

I sigh for the times when my pulses ran high,
Lady Luck by my side and customs close by,
A tinker, a tailor or a poor man I'll die,
For they've spiked our old roads o'er the border.