Calling for his whisky. Sharp ears are tuned to the drones and chanter's warning. Mist blowing round some headland, somewhere in your memory. So take a minute to remember the part of you that might be the old man calling me. Maybe there's always time for another Christmas song.
Old man is asleep now.
Got appointments to keep now. The Whaler's Dues Money speaks. Soft hearts lose. The truth only whispers. It's the whaler's dues.