I am living dry and placid now among encircling mountains, An old man still remembering the days that used to be, But I close my eyes and live again those days of sweat and laughter, When we worked the trochus luggers* in the western Coral Sea. Sailing in a black hulled lugger with a lookout at the masthead, You may drift along the coral cays and anchor where you please, In the glassy leeside waters of some rocky offshore island, Though the outer reef be trembling under pounding whitened seas. Laddie oh... Laddie ay, Laddie oh... Laddie ay Laddie oh... Laddie ay, Laddie oh... Laddie ay You may anchor calm and safely in the shallows over coral, Where the waters glimmer peacock in a hundred shifting shades, You can hear the rippling wavelets tinkle gently on the beaches, And the stays and braces strumming in the southeast trades. Laddie oh... Laddie ay, Laddie oh... Laddie ay Laddie oh... Laddie ay, Laddie oh... Laddie ay To the north of Lizard Island and to the south of Iron Range, In my dreams I am returning to the place where I would be, To the laughing Torres Straitsmen singing softly in the twilight, To the trochus lugger's anchorage in Princess Charlotte Bay. Laddie oh... Laddie ay, Laddie oh... Laddie ay Laddie oh... Laddie ay, Laddie oh... Laddie ay