CHORUS: Hill you ho, boys, let her go, boys, bring her head 'round, Now all together; Hill you ho, boys, let her go, boys, sailing home, home, to Mingulay.
What care we, though white the Minch is, what care we for wind Or weather, Let her go, boys, every inch is sailing home, home, to Mingulay.
(chorus)
Wives are waiting on the bank or looking seaward from the Heather; Pull her round, boys, and we'll anchor, ere the sun sets on Mingulay.
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