Haul down, lads, Pass the billy round, lads. Tara to Silvie, tara to Jean, We'll soon be on the road. Don't think on what you're leaving, Don't think on what you've found; Just tear off the toot, pull out the chart, We'll find another ground. Haul down, lads, It wasn't all that grand, lads. We've made some brass, you've had a lass, It's perhaps as well we're going. I know how it can hurt, lads, To leave her standing there; But there's often tears And there's always fears, But you'll be back next year. Pull down, lads, The sets are coming down, lads. The act's all packed and the dodging's stacked, A bite of scran and go. We'll leave it as we found it; They'll soon forget we've been. Oh, we trade in fun, and we go and come, We're often scorned and seldom mourned. Oh, I hope you know what I mean.