Three-Day Millionaire Mike Waterson
I left school Friday, went to sea on Saturday,
Catch the early tide away, be a galley boy’s me plan;
To the fishing grounds I’d roam, fifteen-hundred miles from home;
Couldn’t give a bugger I’m a man!
I’ll get meself a suit made, show I’m in the fishing trade,
Put me brothel-creepers on, swagger all I can,
Brylcreem in me hair, I’m a three-day millionaire;
Couldn’t give a bugger I’m a man!
And when I’m deckie learning it’s the bonus I’ll be earning;
The money it comes in handy for the old ran tan;
All me pots are pint-sized, watch me getting paralysed;
Couldn’t give a bugger I’m a man!
And when I get to skipper I’ll get married, have a nipper,
I’ll take the boy to sea wi’ me and I’ll show him all I can;
Be a different sort of feller, I’ll have an ’ouse out in Kirkella;
I’ll show the bleedin’ neighbours who’s a man!
Bye, Bye Skipper Trad
Tell me, skipper, is it true, you can’t get a crew to sail with you?
Bye-bye, skipper!
Would you tell me, skipper, is it right, you can’t get a crew to sail tonight?
Bye-bye, skipper!
And while you’re in your blankets bloody shirking
We’re all out on deck here bloody working:
So pack me case, yeh pack me grip, you’ll not get me back next trip;
Skipper, bye-bye!