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