Lyrics:

Where the winter blizzards blow and the whaling fleet's at rest,
Tacked in Leith harbour's sheltered bay safely anchored ten abreast.
For there's the whalemen at their stations as from ship to ship they rove,
Carry bags of coal with them and a little iron stove.

Chorus (after each verse):
In the little dark engine room where the chill seep in your soul,
How we huddled round that little pot stove that burned oily rags and coal.
The fireman Paddy works with me on the engine frozen cold,
A stranger to the truth was he, there's not a lie he hasn't told.
Well, he boasted of his gold mines and of the hearts that he had won
And his bawdy sense of humour shone just like a ray of sun.

We live it seven days a week, cold hands and frozen feet,
Bitter days and lonely nights, making grog and having fights.
There's swordfish and whale-meat sausage and fresh penguin egg's a treat;
Then we struggle on to work each day through the icy winds and sleet.

Then one day we saw the sun, we saw the factory ship return,
Meet your old friends and you sing a song; we hope the journey wasn't long.
And then it's homeward bound and it's over and we'll leave this icy hole;
But I always will remember that little iron stove.