There's a roof and a door down by the shore, held up by a floor and a wall And a window shoved up in the corner, where the curtain's about to fall You'll see forty smiling faces there, all friends that I once knew They're all inside, along for the ride, at the Harbour Hullaballoo There's a fella there on a broken chair, held up by an old guitar He's the last standing of a four-piece band, the rest are asleep in the car There's a lady dancing with bottle-caps stuck on the soles of her shoes Yes, there's quite the entertainment tonight at the Harbour Hullaballoo There's two or three down from Tracadie, with faces like broken clocks They fall in the door, and bow to the floor, roaring at the holes in their socks They curse and they swear and they turn the air a smoky shade of blue But we'll plug our ears with a dozen beers at the Harbour Hullaballoo There's three or four from the Tignish shore, boots hauled up to their knees They stagger around making a sound like a hive of riled up bees They don't like the song, and the fight is on we'll swing a fist or two Have great fun 'til the battles won at the harbour hullaballoo Mounties arrive at half-past-five, to give us all a ride to town Sick and sore on the back seat floor, Sleepy Hollow bound With a chair and a bed and a busted head we'll swear the judge we're through Then get out of my sight we're back that night You can have your hootenannies; you can have your chevaries Take your kitchen rackets boys they don't mean much to me Your jamborees and your tiddle-dum sprees and your gumboot cloggeroos Oh they're all great fun but there's only one called the Harbour Hullaballoo