1. |
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We shepherds are the best of men that e'er trod English ground,
When we reach an alehouse we value not a crown
We drinks our liquor freely and pays before we go,
For there is no ale out on the wold where the stormy winds do blow
A man who is a shepherd must have a valiant heart,
He must not be too timid, but bravely play his part.
He must not be faint-hearted, be it ice or rain or snow,
For there is no ale out on the wold where the stormy winds do blow
We shepherds are the best of men that e'er trod English ground,
When we reach an alehouse we value not a crown
We drinks our liquor freely and pays before we go,
For there is no ale out on the wold where the stormy winds do blow
When I kept sheep on Blockley Hill it made my heart to weep
To see the ewes hang out their tongues and hear the lambs to bleat.
So I plucked up my courage and o'er the hills did go
For to pen my sheep out in the fold where the stormy winds do blow
We shepherds are the best of men that e'er trod English ground,
When we reach an alehouse we value not a crown
We drinks our liquor freely and pays before we go,
For there is no ale out on the wold where the stormy winds do blow
As soon as I had finished, I turned my back in haste
Unto some jovial company, good liquor for to taste.
For drink and jovial company, they are my heart's delight
While my sheep safely sleep until the morning light
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2. |
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Somewhere from beneath the mountains
Young uhlan he mounts his stallion
Bids farewell to Kateryn
And tenderly to Ukraine
Hej, hej, hej sokoły
Omijajcie góry, lasy, doły.
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń dzwoneczku,
Mój stepowy skowroneczku.
Hej, hej, hej sokoły
Omijajcie góry, lasy, doły.
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń dzwoneczku,
Mój stepowy
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń
The world is full of pretty little things
But most are there in Ukraine.
The world is made of steel and leather
There my heart abides forever
Hej, hej, hej sokoły
Omijajcie góry, lasy, doły.
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń dzwoneczku,
Mój stepowy skowroneczku.
Hej, hej, hej sokoły
Omijajcie góry, lasy, doły.
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń dzwoneczku,
Mój stepowy
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń
And now my tears are falling clean
For my fair girl and Ukraine
Looking back my soul does weep
For never again to see her sleep
Wine, wine, give me wine
And promise when it comes my time
You'll lay me where the fields are green
Beside my dearest Kateryn
Hej, hej, hej sokoły
Omijajcie góry, lasy, doły.
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń dzwoneczku,
Mój stepowy skowroneczku.
Hej, hej, hej sokoły
Omijajcie góry, lasy, doły.
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń dzwoneczku,
Mój stepowy
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń
Hej, hej, hej sokoły
Omijajcie góry, lasy, doły.
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń dzwoneczku,
Mój stepowy
Dzwoń, dzwoń, dzwoń
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3. |
Rigs of the Time
02:47
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No wonder that butter's a shilling a pound,
See those rich farmers' daughters how they ride up and down
If you ask them the reason they'll say, "Bon alas!
There's been a French war, so the cows have no grass."
Honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, me boys,
These are the rigs of the time.
Now here's to our landlord, I must bring him in,
Charges tuppence a pint and yet thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, the measure is short
And the top of your pint is all covered in froth.
Honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, me boys,
These are the rigs of the time.
And here's to the butcher, I must bring him in,
Charges four pence a pound and yet thinks it no sin.
Slaps his thumb on the scales and he makes it go down
He declares it's a full weight yet it lacks half a pound.
Honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, me boys,
These are the rigs of the time.
And here's to the baker, I must bring him in,
Charges a ha'penny a loaf and yet thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, it's no bigger than your fist
And the top of the loaf is all covered in grist
Honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, me boys,
These are the rigs of the time
Now here's to the tailor who skims with our clothes,
And here's to the cobbler who pinches our toes,
Our belly's all empty, our backsides are bare,
No wonder we've reason to curse and to swear
Honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, me boys,
These are the rigs of the time
Time, me boys,
These are the rigs of the time
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4. |
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We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
And we'll all hang on behind...
And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!
Oh, we'd be alright if we make it round The Horn
We'd be alright if we make it round The Horn
We'd be alright if we make it round The Horn
And we'll all hang on behind...
And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!
Well a night on the town wouldn't do us any harm
A night on the town wouldn't do us any harm
Oh, a night on the town wouldn't do us any harm
And we'll all hang on behind...
And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!
Well a drop of Nelson's Blood wouldn't do us any harm
Yeah a drop of Nelson's Blood wouldn't do us any harm
A drop of Nelson's Blood wouldn't do us any harm
And we'll all hang on behind!
And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!
Oh, we'll be alright 'cause there's cider in the jar
Yeah we'll be alright 'cause there's cider in the jar
We'll be alright 'cause there's cider in the jar
And we'll all hang on behind...
And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!
And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!
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5. |
The Foggy Dew
04:28
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As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I
There armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum nor battle drum, did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey 's swell
Rang out in the Foggy Dew
Right proudly high over Dublin town they hung out the flag of war
'twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud-El-Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew
'Twas Brittania bade our wild geese go, that "small nations might be free";
Their lonely graves are by Suvla bay or the shores of the great North Sea.
But had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Easter tide in the spring time of the year
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few,
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew
As back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy Dew.
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6. |
Twankidillo
04:06
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Here's a health to the jolly blacksmith
The best of all fellows
He works at his anvil
While the boy blows the bellows
Which makes his bright hammer
To rise and to fall
Here's to old coal, and to young coal
And to no coal at all.
Twanky dillo, twanky dillo
Twanky dillo, dillo, dillo, dillo
And a roaring pair of bagpipes
Made from the green willow.
If a gentleman comes
His horse for to shoe
He will make no denial
Of one pot or two
Which makes his bright hammer
To rise and to fall
Here's to old coal, and to young coal
And to no coal at all.
Twanky dillo, twanky dillo
Twanky dillo, dillo, dillo, dillo
And a roaring pair of bagpipes
Made from the green willow
Here's a health to King Charlie
And likewise the queen
And to all the royal little ones
Where'ere they are seen
Which makes his bright hammer
To rise and to fall
Here's to old coal, and to young coal
And to no coal at all.
Twanky dillo, twanky dillo
Twanky dillo, dillo, dillo, dillo
And a roaring pair of bagpipes
Made from the green willow
Here's a health to the pretty girl
The one I love best
She kindles her fire
All in her own breast
Which makes his bright hammer
To rise and to fall
Here's to old coal, and to young coal
And to no coal at all.
Twanky dillo, twanky dillo
Twanky dillo, dillo, dillo, dillo
And a roaring pair of bagpipes
Made from the green willow
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7. |
Spanish Ladies
03:00
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Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain
Cause we've received orders to sail for old England
And we hope in a short time to see you again
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues
We hove our ship to, with the wind at southwest, boys
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take
'Twas forty-five fathoms with a fine sandy bottom
So we squared our main yard and up Channel did make
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues
The first land we sighted was called the Deadman
Next Ram's Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlee and Dungness
Then bore straight away for the South Foreland Light
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues
Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor
And all in the Downs that night for to lie;
Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper
Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues
Let every man here drink up his full bumper
Let every man here drink up his full glass
We'll sing and be jolly and drown melancholy
And here's to the health of my true-hearted lass
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues
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8. |
The Unquiet Grave
04:35
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Cold blows the wind over my true love,
And gently falls the rain.
I've only had but one true love,
And in Flanders he lies slain.
I'll do as much for my true love,
As any young girl may,
I'll sit and mourn all on his grave,
For twelve months and a day.
When twelve months and a day was passed,
The corpse began to speak,
"why sittest thou upon my grave
And will not let me sleep?"
There's one thing that I want sweetheart
There's one thing that I crave
And that is a kiss from your lily white lips
Then I'll go from your grave
"My lips they are as cold as clay,
My breath is earthy strong,
And if you were to kiss these lily white lips,
Your days would not be long."
"Go fetch me water from the desert,
And blood from out a stone,
Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast
That a young man never has known."
Cold blows the wind over my true love,
And gently falls the rain.
I've only had but one true love,
And in Flanders he lies slain.
When will we meet again, sweetheart,
When will we meet again?"
"When the oaken leaves falling from the trees
Are green and spring up again."
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9. |
Apple Tree Wassail
02:51
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Oh Apple Tree, we wassail thee
Hoping Thou Wilt Bear
For Lord doth know where we shall be
When apples come another year
For to grow well and bear well
And merrily we shall be
Let every man drink up his glass
And health to the apple tree
For to grow well and bear well
And merrily we shall be
Let every man drink up his glass
And health to the apple tree
Here's a health to the apple tree
Oh Apple Tree, we wassail thee
Hoping Thou Wilt Bear
Hat-fulls, cap-fulls, three bushel bag-fulls
Many more under the stairs
For to grow well and bear well
And merrily we shall be
Let every man drink up his glass
And health to the apple tree
For to grow well and bear well
And merrily we shall be
Let every man drink up his glass
And health to the apple tree
Here's a health to the apple tree
So grow well and bear well
And merrily we shall be
Let every man drink up his glass
And health to the apple tree
For to grow well and bear well
And merrily we shall be
Let every man drink up his glass
And health to the apple tree
Here's a health to the apple tree
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10. |
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'Twas late '65 at the old Wallsea Yard
She was commissioned to haul the black tar
Built the Northumbria there on the bar
Roll Northumbria, roll
For when the Egyptians they closed the Red Sea
A call came on high from the powers that be
To build a royal monster right down the key
Roll Northumbria roll, me boys
Roll Northumbria, roll
Carpathia Vengeance Celestial call
She was the tanker to outsize 'em all
From the banks of the Mersey To the port of Hulal
Roll Northumbria, roll
And fair princess Anne threw a bottle of wine
And watched as the giant set down in the Tyne
What lay ahead could no mortal divine
Roll Northumbria roll, me boys
Roll Northumbria, roll
And it's one for the hot sun above
Two for the empire we love
And it's three for the fire that burns down below
Roll on Northumbria
Roll Northumbria, roll
And it's one for the hot sun above
Two for the empire we love
And it's three for the fire that burns down below
Roll on Northumbria
Roll Northumbria, roll
So come all you good workers
Beware the command
That comes down on high from the desk of a man
Who's never held steel or torch in his hands
Roll Northumbria, roll
For atop a wild breaker the cracks in her frame
Spilled her black guts all across the wild main
And she limped away through an ocean of flame
Roll Northumbria roll, me boys
Roll Northumbria, roll
And it's one for the hot sun above
Two for the empire we love
And it's three for the fire that burns down below
Roll on Northumbria
Roll Northumbria, roll, my boys
Roll on Northumbria
Roll Northumbria, roll
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