The song's author Ralph Dunstan prints these lyrics in his Cornish Song Book (1929):

On February 25, 1929, I spent the afternoon with Mr. Tregarthen, at his home in Newquay; and when he had read through the whole of Part I of this work, he said: “But there isn’t a Smuggler’s Song, we must have one!” Having searched in vain for suitable words, I wrote the following, and Mr. Tregarthen added the final touches. The appropriate and fine tune of The Lincolnshire Poacher suggested the lilt of the words.

A CORNISH SMUGGLER’S SONG

Of Prussia Cove where I was born, a song I’ll here begin;
My father is a smuggler bold, and well do he “knaw tin”,
To “land a cargo of the goods” he never thought a sin,
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

John Carter is my father’s name, the King of all his kin,
He is “an honest man”, and keeps his word thro’ thick and thin.
For mounted men and cutlass’d guard he doesn’t care a pin,
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

Our lugger is the Rose and Crown, us bought her at Penryn;
A double-bottom, too, has she, as snug as any bin.
To see the tubs she brings from France would make a dunkey grin,
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

No mark of keg or sinking-stone is ever seen within;
Across the channel, rough or smooth, so sweetly does she spin.
What joy my boys to “land the goods“, nor lose a kilderkin!
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

We’ve friends galore along the shore: there’s dear old Squire Prynn,
And every farmer near and far, and Mathey at the inn;
And passun Vigurs doant despise a case of Hollands gin!
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

Poor speed to all Preventive spies from Tresco Sands to Lyn;
They’d saw a poor man’s boat in dree and joy to do him in!
Why should they take the bread away we work so hard to win?
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.