As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair,
To view the salt water and take the salt air.
I heard the old fisherman singing a song,.
“Oh take me away boys, me time is not long”
Wrap me up in my oilskin and jumper,
No more on the docks Ill be seen.
Just tell me old shipmates llm taking a trip mates,
And lll see you someday on Fiddlers Green.
Now Fiddlers Green is a place I’ve heard tell,
Where the 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.
Where the skies are all clear and there is never a gale,
And the fish jump on board with one swish of their tail,
Where you lie at your leisure, there’s no work to do,
And the skipper’s below making tea for the crew.
When you get back on docks and the long trip is through,
There’s pubs and there’s clubs and there’s lassies there too,
Where the girls are all pretty and the beer it is free,
And there’s bottles of rum growing from every tree.
Now I don’t want a harp nor a halo, not me,
Just give me breeze and a good rolling sea”
l’ll play me old squeeze box as we sail along,
With the wind in the rigging to sing me a song.