Newfoundland traditional, most famously sung by Hank Snow.

Oh, this is the place where the fishermen gather,
In oilskins and boots and Cape Anns battened down.
All sizes of figures with squid lines and jiggers,
They congregate here on the squid-jigging ground.

Some are working their jiggers while others are yarning.
There's some standing up and there's more lying down.
While all kinds of fun, jokes and tricks are begun,
As they wait for the squid on the squid-jigging ground.

There's men of all ages and boys in the bargain,
There's old Billy Cave and there's young Raymond Brown.
There's a red ranting Tory out here in a dory,
A-running down Squires on the squid jigging ground.

There's men from the Harbour, there's men from the Tickle,
In all kinds of motorboats, green, grey and brown.
Right yonder there's Bobby and with him is Noddy,
He's chawing hard tack on the squid-jigging ground.

Oh, God bless my sou'wester, there's Skipper John Chaffey.
He's the best hand at squid jigging here, I'll be bound.
Hello, what's the row? Why he's jigging one now.
It's the very first squid on the squid-jigging ground.

Now, the man with the whiskers is old Jacob Steele.
He's getting well up but he's still pretty sound.
While Uncle Bob Hawkins wears six pair o' stockings,
Whenever he's out on the squid jigging ground.
Holy smoke! What a scuffle, all hands are excited.
'Tis a wonder to me that there's nobody drowned.
There's confusion, a bustle, a wonderful hustle.
They're all jigging squids on the squid jigging ground.

Says Bobby, "The squids are on top of the water.
I just got my jiggers 'bout one fathom down.
But a squid in the boat squirted right down his throat,
And he's swearing like mad on the squid-jigging ground.

There's poor Uncle Billy, his whiskers are spattered,
With spots of the squid juice that's flying around.
One poor little b'y got it right in the eye,
But they don't give a damn on the squid jigging ground.

Now if ever you feel inclined to go squidding,
Leave your white shirts and collars behind in the town,
And if you get cranky without your silk hanky,
You'd better steer clear of the squid-jigging ground.

Words by Arthur R. Scammel, tune by Larry O'Gaff.
Source: Doyle's "Old-Time Songs and Poetry from Newfoundland".

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