Fiddlers Green
As I walked by the dock-side
one evening so fair,
To view the salt water and take
the sea air,
I heard an old fisherman singing
a song:
Won't you take me home boys,
my time isn't long
Wrap me up in my oliskin and
jumper
No more on the docks I'll be
seen,
Just tell me old shipmates
I'm taking a trip mates
and I'll see you all someday
in Fiddlers Green.
Now Fiddlers Green is a place
I heard tell
Where fisherman go if they don't
go to hell
Where the skies are all clear
and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland
is far, far away.
When you get to the docks and
the long trip is through
There's pubs there's clubs and
there's lassies there too,
Where the girls are all pretty
and the beer is free
And there's bottles of rum growing
from each tree.
Now I don't want a harp nor a
halo, not me.
Just give me a breeze and a good
rolling sea,
I'll play my old squeeze-box
as we sail along
With the wind in
the rigging to sing me a song.