Fiddler’s Green John Connolly
As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair,
To view the salt waters and take the salt air,
I heard an old fisherman singing a song,
Wont you take me away, boys, me time is not long.
Chorus: Dress me up in me oilskins 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 someday in Fiddler’s Green.
Now Fiddler’s Green is a place, I’ve heard tell,
Where fishermen 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.
Now when you’re ashore and there’s never a gale,
And the fish jump on board with a flip of their tail,
You may lie at your leisure, there’s no work to do,
And the skipper’s below making tea for the crew.
When you’re back home in port and the long trip is through,
And there’s pubs and there’s clubs, there’s bonny girls too,
And the girls are all pretty and the drink’s running free,
And there’s bottles of rum hanging off every tree.
And I don’t want a harp nor a halo not me,
Just give me a deck and a brisk rolling sea,
And I’ll play me old squeezebox as we roll along,
With the wind in the rigging to sing me this song.
Dress me up in me oilskins and jumper…