Farewell Nova Scotia
Traditional
The sun was setting in the west
The birds were singing on every tree
All nature seemed inclined for to rest
But still there was never any rest for me
CHORUS
Farewell Nova Scotia, you sea-bound coast
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I am far away on the briny ocean tossed
Will you ever heave a sigh and a wish for me
I grieve to leave my native land
I grieve to leave my comrades all
And my parents whom I held so dear
And the bonny, bonny lassie that I do adore
The drums they do beat and the wars to alarm
The Captain calls, I must obey
So farewell, farewell To my Nova Scotia home
For it's early in the morning and I'm far, far away
I had three brothers and they are at rest
Their arms are folded on their chests
But a poor, simple sailor just like me
Must be tossed and driven on the deep, blue sea
Farewell Shanty - Padstow Farewell
Traditional Fo'c'sle Song
It is time to go now.
Haul away your anchor.
Haul away your anchor.
'Tis our sailing time.
Get some sail upon her.
Haul away your halyards.
Haul away your halyards.
'Tis our sailing time.
Get her on her course now.
Haul away your foresheets.
Haul away your foresheets.
'Tis our sailing time.
Waves are breaking under.
Haul away down-channel.
Haul away down-channel.
On the evening tide.
When my time is over.
Haul away for Heaven.
Haul away for Heaven.
God be at my side.
Fathom the Bowl
Traditional
Come all ye bold heroes give an ear to me song,
We'll sing in the praise of good brandy and rum,
It's a clear crystal fountain near Ireland doth roll,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.
CHORUS
I'll fathom the bowl, I'll fathom the bowl,
Give me the punch ladle I'll fathom the bowl.
From France we do get brandy, from Jamaica comes rum,
Sweet oranges and apples from Portugal come,
But stout and strong cider are Ireland's control,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.
Me wife she do disturb me when I'm laying at my ease,
She does as she likes, she says as she please.
Me wife, she's the devil, she's black as the coal.
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.
Me father he do lie in the depths of the sea,
With no stone at his head, but what matters for he,
It's a clear crystal fountain near Ireland doth roll,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.
So come all ye bold heroes give an ear to me song,
We'll sing in the praise of good brandy and rum.
It's a clear crystal fountain near Ireland doth roll,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.
Fiddler’s Green
Fo’c’sle ballad
As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair
To view the salt water and taste the salt air
I heard an old fisherman singing this song
Won’t you take me away boys, me time is not long
CHORUS
Wrap 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 some day in Fiddler’s Green
Fiddler’s Green is a place I heard tell
Where the fishermen go if they don’t go to hell
Where skies are all clear and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away
The weather is fair and there’s never a gale
And the fish jump on board with one flip of their tail
You lie in your hammock, there’s work to do
And the skipper’s below makin’ tea for the crew
Soon we’re in port with the long voyage through
There’s mugs and there’s jugs and there’s laughin’ there too
Where the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there’s bottles of rum hangin’ from every tree
I don’t need no harp or no halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rollin’ sea
I’ll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along
With the wind in the rigging to sing me a song
Fifteen Years on the Erie Canal
Thomas S. Allen
I’ve got an old mule and her name is Sal,
Resp: Fifteen years on the Erie Canal
She’s a good old worker and a good old pal,
Resp: Fifteen years on the Erie Canal
We’ve hauled some barges in our day, Filled with lumber, coal and hay
And ev’ry inch of the way I know, From Albany to Buffalo
CHORUS
Low bridge, ev’rybody down, Low bridge, we must be getting near a town
You can always tell your neighbor, You can always tell your pal
If he’s ever navigated on the Erie Canal
Get up there Sal, we've passed that lock,
And we'll make Rome before six o'clock
One more trip and back we'll go
Through the rain and sleet and snow
And every inch of the way I (we) know
From Albany to Buffalo
I don’t have to call when I want my Sal,
She trots from her stall like a good old gal,
I eat my meals with Sal each day,
I eat beef and she eats hay
She ain’t so slow if you want to know,
She put the “Buff” in Buffalo
Fire Down Below
Traditional Pumping shanty and Capstan shanty
Fire in the windlass, Fire in the chain;
It's fetch a bucket of water, boys,
And put it out again.
Chorus
Fire! Fire! There’s Fire down below!
It’s fetch a bucket of water, boys,
There’s fire down below!
Fire in the forepeak, fire down below;
Fire in the chain-plates,
The bosun didn’t know.
There’s fire in the lifeboat, Fire in the gig
Fire in the pig-stye,
A-roasting the pig
Fire in the foretop, fire down below;
There’s fire in the main, boys,
The old man didn’t know.
Fire in the galley, fire down below;
It's fetch a bucket of water, boys,
There's fire down below.
Fire on the waters, fire high above;
There’s fire in our hearts, boys,
For all the friends we love.
Sheet Music for this song - slightly different words
The Fisherman’s Song/Lament for the Fisherman’s Wife
Andy M. Stewart
By the storm-torn shoreline a woman is standing
The spray strung like jewels in her hair
And the sea tore the rocks near that desolate landing
As though it had known she stood there.
CHORUS
For she had come down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man,
His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.
Oh and white were the wave-caps
And wild was their parting
So fierce is the warring of love,
But she prayed to the gods
Both of men and of sailors
Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love.
There's a school on the hill
Where the sons of dead sailors
Are led toward tempests and gales,
Where their God-given wings
Are clipped close to their bodies,
And their eyes are bound 'round with ships' sails.
What force leads a man
To a life filled with danger
High on seas or a mile underground?
It's when need is his master
And poverty's no stranger,
And there's no other work to be found.
Flowers of Bermuda
Stan Rogers
Just five short hours from Bermuda's isle in a fine October gale
O there came a cry, " Oh, there be breakers dead ahead
From the collier Nightingale
CHORUS
He was the captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-one days from Clyde in coal
He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale
When he died on the North Rock shoal
No sooner had the captain brought her round, then came a rending crash below
Hard on her beam ends groaning, went the Nightingale
And overside her mainmast goes
"O captain are we all for drowning," came a cry from all the crew
"The boats be smashed! How are we all then to be saved?
They are stove in through and through
O are ye brave and hardy colliermen or are you blind now and cannot see
O the captain's gig still lies before ye whole and sound
And it shall carry all of we away
But when the crew was all assembled (there) and the gig (was) prepared for sea
'Twas seen there were but eighteen places to be manned
And nineteen mortal souls were we
But cries the captain," now do not delay nor do you spare a thought for me
My duty is to save you all now
Save ye all now if I can see ye return quick as can be
Oh, there be flowers in Bermuda beauty lies on every hand
And there be laughter ease and drink there for every man
But there is no joy for me
For when we reached the wretched Nightingale what an awful sight was plain
O the captain, drowned, was tangled in the mizzen chains
Smiling bravely beneath the sea