We had no way of staying afloat,
We had to leave on a ferryboat.
Economic refugees,
On the run to Germany.
We had the back of Maggie's hand,
Times were tough in Geordieland.
We got wor tools and working gear
And humped it all from Newcastle to here.
Why aye man.
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man,
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man.
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man,
Why aye, why aye man.
We're nomad tribes, travelling boys,
In the dust and dirt and the racket and the noise.
Drills and hammers, diggers and picks,
Mixing concrete, laying bricks.
There's English, Irish, Scots, the lot.
United Nations' what we've got.
Brickies, chippies, every trade.
German building, British made.
Why aye man.
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man,
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man.
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man,
Why aye, why aye man.
Nay more work on Maggie's farm.
Haddaway down the autobahn.
Mine's a Portakabin bed,
Or a bunk in a Nissen hut instead.
There's plenty Deutschmarks here to earn.
And German tarts are  wundersch鰊.
German beer is chemical free.
Germany's alright with me.
Sometimes I miss my river Tyne,
But you're my pretty  fr鋟lein.
Tonight we'll drink the old town dry,
Keep wor spirit levels high.
Why aye man.
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man,
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man.
Why aye, why aye man.
Why aye man,
Why aye, why aye man.