Shanties, Sea Songs, and all that kind of stuff.
Fire Down Below
Version 1
She was the parson’s daughter
with red and rosy cheeks.
Chorus: (Way, hey, hee, hi, ho!)
She went to church on Sunday
and sang the anthem sweet
Chorus: (and there’s fire down below.)
The parson was a misery,
so scraggy and so thin
Chorus: (Way, hey, hee, hi, ho!)
Look here you motherfuckers
if you lead a life of sin
Chorus: (and there’s fire down below).
He took his text from Malachi
and pulled a weary face
Chorus: (Way, hey, hee, hi, ho!)
and I fucked off for Africa
and there I fell from grace
Chorus: (’cause there’s fire down below.)
The parson’s little daughter
was as sweet as sugar candy
Chorus: (Way, hey, hee, hi, ho!)
I said to her us sailors
would make lovers neat and handy
Chorus: (’cause there’s fire down below.)
She says to me: You sailors
are a bunch of fucking liars
Chorus: (Way, hey, hee, hi, ho!)
And all of you are bound to hell
to feed the fucking fires
Chorus: (’cause there’s fire down below.)
Well there’s fire down below, my lads,
so we must do what we oughtta
Chorus: (Way, hey, hee, hi, ho!)
'Cause the fire is not half as hot
as the parson’s little daughter
Chorus: (And there’s fire down below.)
Fire Down Below
Version 2
Chorus:
Fire, fire, fire down below,
It’s Fetch a bucket of water girls
There’s fire down below.
I Fire in the galley, fire down below.
It’s fetch a bucket of water girls,
There’s fire down below.
2 Fire in the bottom fire in the main
It’s fetch a bucket of water girls,
And put it out again.
3 As I walked out one morning
all in the month of June
I overheard an Irish girl
singing this old song
4 Fire in the lifeboat,
fire in the gig(
Fire in the pig-stye roasting of the pig.
5 Fire up aloft boy and fire down below,
It’s fetch a bucket of water girls,
There’s fire down below
Fire Down Below
Version 3
I thought I heard the old man say
Chorus:
Fire down below-o-o-o-o-ow boys
Fire down below
You can go ashore and get your pay
I don't care what the captain says
Two pound ten won't pay my way
I'll take my clothes and run away
I'll run away at break of day
Because I can no longer stay
I'll go to my girl in 'Frisco Bay
I know very well 'tis with me she'll stay
Because she knows I'll have twelve months pay
And we'll go down to the Midway Plasances
See the pretty girls do the hula hula dances
I though I heard the captain say
You can go ashore and get your pay
Fire Merengo
Oh lift him up and carry him along
Chorus: Fire Marengo, fire away
Sit him down where he belongs
Chorus: Fire Marengo, fire away
Stow him in his hole below
Chorus: Fire Marengo, fire away
And stay he must but then he'll go
Chorus: Fire Marengo, fire away
When I get back to Liverpool town
I'll cast a line to little Sally Brown
I'll haul her high, I'll haul her low
I'll bust her locks and make her go
Oh Sally she's a pretty little craft
Hot shot to the fore and rounded aft
Hit him down and let him lay
One more turn and we`re away
Oh screw that cart and screw it down
Let's get the hell from Hilo town
Chorus: Fire Marengo, fire away
Fishermen's Wife
This is in the original Geordie. Scot sings a more comprehendible version, lyrics follow on
Fa wid be a fisherman's wife
Tae work wi’a tub an'a scrubber an’a knife,
A deid oot fire an ’a raivel’d bed
An' awa tae the mussels in the mornin
Chorus:
Here we come scoorin in,
Three reefs tae the foresail in
There 's nae a dry stick tae pit on wer back,
But still we're aa teetotal
Noo, fa’ll gie's a hand tae rin a ripper lead
Tae try for a coddie in the bay o ’ Peterheid?
They ’re maybe at the Lummies or the clock on Sautis’eid
Few we gaun tae the sma lines in the mornin
Ma puir auld faither’s in the middle o’ the flair
Beatin heuks ontae tippets an they’re hingin on his chair
They ’re made wi horses hair, man, for that's the best o’gear
Tae be gyan tae the fishin in the mornin
Syne it’s doon the Geddle Braes in the middle o’ the nicht
Wi an aul seerup tin an a can'le for a licht
Tae gither up the pullars, ev’ry een o' them in sicht
So we'll get the linie baited for the mornin
It’s easy to the cobbler, sittin in his neuk,
His big copper kettle hingin on a crook
But we’re in the boo and we cannae get a heuk
It’s sair hard work in the mornin
It’s nae the kin o' life that a gentle quine can thole
Wi her fingers reid raw wi the scrubbin oot a yole
An a littlen on her hip, she’s awa tae cairry coal,
She’ll be caaed sair deen in the mornin
The Fisherman's Wife
Who would be a fisherman's wife
To work wi' a tub an a scrubber an' a knife
A died out fire an' a ravelled bed
An' away to the mussels in the mornin.
Chorus:
Here we come scoorin in,
Three reefs to the foresail in.
There's not a dry stick to put on our back,
But still we're all teetotal
No fellow gives a hand to rin a ripper lead
To try for a coddie in the bay o' Peterheid?
They're maybe at the Lummies or the clock on Sautis'eid
When we've gone to the small ines in the mornin.
My poor old father's in the middle o' the floor
Beating hooks onto leaders and they're hangin on his chair.
They're made with horses' hair, for that's the best o' gear
To be going to the fishin in the mornin.
Soon it's down the Geddle Braes in the middle o' the night
With an old syrup tin an a candle for a light
To gather up the peelers every one them in sight
So we'll get the linie baited for the mornin.
It's easy for the cobbler, sittin in his nook,
His big copper kettle hangin on a hook.
But we're in the boat and we cannot get a hook
It's fair hard work in the mornin.
It's not the kind of life that a gentle queen can thole
With her fingers reid raw with the scrubbin out a yole
An a littlen on her hip, she's away to carry coal,
She'll be up early for work in the mornin.
Still an all she wouldn't change for the grandest of your gear
For she never kens the minute when her heairt'll loop with fear.
For he's away to the sea an he's all that she has dear
She could be a widow with his bairn in the mornin.
gie's = give us
ripper = metal bar with hooks, tied to a sea line
coddie = codfish
Lummies & Salt House Head = local landmarks
gaun, gyan= going
puir aul = poor old
flair = floor
Beatin heuks ontae tippets = attaching hooks to leaders
syne = in time
Wi an aul seerup tin an a can'le for a licht =
With an old syrup can (to hold the bait) & a candle for a light
pullars = peeler crabs - soft-shelled for bait
boo = bow
quine = quean (young woman)
thole = endure
yole = fishing yawl
littlen = little one
caaed sair deen = get up for work too early
gran'est o' yer gear = the best one might have
loup = flip-flop
qued = could
bairn = child
Frankies Trade
Original poem bt Rudyard Kipling
Old Horn to All Atlantic said:
(A Hi O! To me O!)
“Now where did Frankie learn his trade?
For he ran me down with a three-reef mains'le.”
(All round the Horn!)
Atlantic answered: “Not from me!
(A Hi O! To me O!)
You'd better ask the cold North Sea,
For he ran me down under all plain canvas.”
(All round the Horn!)
The North Sea answered: “He's my man,
(A Hi O! To me O!)
For he came to me when he began--
It's Frankie Drake in an open coaster.
(All round the Sands!)
“I caught him young and I used him sore,
(A Hi O! To me O!)
So you never shall startle Frankie more,
Without capsizing Earth and her waters.
(All round the Sands!)
“I did not favour him at all,
(A Hi O! To me O!)
I made him pull and I made him haul--
And stand his trick with the common sailors.
(All round the Sands!)
“I froze him stiff and I fogged him blind,
(A Hi O! To me O!)
And kicked him home with his road to find
By what he could see of a three-day snow-storm.
(All round the Sands!)
“I learned him his trade o' winter nights,
(A Hi O! To me O!)
'Twixt Mardyk Fort and Dunkirk lights
On a five-knot tide with the forts a-firing.
(All round the Sands!)
“Before his beard began to shoot,
(A Hi O! To me O!)
I showed him the length of the Spaniard's foot--
And I reckon he clapped the boot on it later.
(All round the Sands!)
“If there's a risk which you can make
(A Hi O! To me O!)
That's worse than he was used to take
Nigh every week in the way of his business;
(All round the Sands!)
“If there's a trick that you can try
(A Hi O! To me O!)
Which he hasn't met in time gone by,
Not once or twice, but ten times over;
(All round the Sands!)
“If you can teach him aught that's new,
(A Hi O! To me O!)
I'll give you Bruges and Niewport too,
And the ten tall churches that stand between 'em.”
(All round the Sands!)
So storm along, my gallant Captains!
(All round the Horn!)
Gals of Chile
To Chile’s coast we’re bound away
Chorus: Timme heave-ho, hang her hilo
To Chile’s coast we’re bound away
Chorus: We’ll all dance and drink pisco
We’re bound away at the break of day
Where they little Spanish gals are so bright and gay
Chorus:
Timme heave-ho hang her hilo
Sing olay for them Spanish girls
And when we get to Vallipo
And when we get to Vallipo
Dance up the street with a roll and go
Grab them round the middle and we wont let go
Them gals o Chile they are so hard to beat x2
From truck to keel they are trim and sweet
They’re all a pullin on the old main sheet
Them senoritas, they are all smart and gay x2
They dance and drink till the break of day
Then clean you out and blow your pay
Rosita, Anna and Carmen too x2
They’ll greet you with a hullabaloo
And soon you’ll know just what they can do
My trim little frigate’s a very smart craft x2
She’s armed to the teeth both for an aft
Sharp at the bows with a fine view abaft
Them ol senyoras as we know well x2
They’re red hot devils from the other side of hell
And you’ll never get a chance for to ring a Chile belle.
When the time comes for to sing farewell x2
Goodbye to the girls and our money as well
Callyo, Coquimbo and old Corynel
General Taylor
General Taylor he's dead and he's gone
Chorus: Walk him along, John, carry him along
Well General Taylor he's long dead and gone
Chorus: Carry him to his burying ground
Full Chorus:
To me way hay, you stormy
Walk him along, John, carry him along
To me way hay, stormy
Carry him to his burying ground
General Taylor died long ago
He's gone, me boys, where the winds never blow
We lowered him down with a golden chain
We made sure he wouldn't rise again
We dug his grave with a silver spade
His shroud of finest silk was made
General Taylor he's all the go
Where he's gone the winds don't blow
I wish I was old Stormies son,
I'd build me a ship of a thousand tons.
I'd fill her up with New England rum,
And all of my shellbacks shall have some
IA bottle of rum for each man,
And all the rest for the shanty man.
I thought I heard the old man say
Just one more pull and then belay.
Go to Sea Once More
When first I landed in Liverpool, I went upon a spree
Me money alas I spent it fast, got drunk as drunk could be
And when that me money was all gone, 'twas then I wanted more
But a man must be blind to make up his mind to go to sea once more
(Repeat chorus after each verse)
Once more, boys, once more, go to sea once more
But a man must be blind to make up his mind to go to sea once more
I spent the night with Angeline too drunk to roll in bed
Me watch was new and me money too, in the morning with them she fled
And as I walked the streets about, the whores they all did roar
There goes Jack Spratt, the poor sailor lad, he must go to sea once more
And as I walked the streets about, I met with the Rapper Brown
I asked him for to take me on and he looked at me with a frown
He said last time you was paid off with me you could no score
But I'll give you a chance and I'll take your advance and I'll send you to see once more
He shipped me on board of a whaling ship bound for the arctic seas
Where the cold winds blow through the frost and snow and Jamaica rum would freeze
But worse to bear, I'd no hard weather gear for I'd spent all money on shore
'Twas then that I wished that I was dead and could go to sea no more
So come all you bold seafaring men, who listen to me song
When you come off them long trips, I'll have you not go wrong
Take my advice, drink no strong drink, don't go sleeping with them whores
Get married instead and spend all night in bed and go to sea no more
God Moves on the Water
Original by Blind Wilie Johnson
Chorus:
God moves on the water,
April the fourteenth day
God moves on the water,
Everybody gonna run and pray
Well that fourteenth day of April
Nineteen hundred and twelve
One thousand and six hundred
Went down forever to dwell
Year of nineteen hundred and twelve
April the fourteenth day
Great titanic struck an iceberg
The people had to run and pray
The were warned by a freight boat
Captain Smith would not take heed
He would not hear that wire, man,
And they run with the greatest speed
One man John Jacob Ashton
Was a man so bold and brave
As that great boat was sinking
All the women he's trying to save
Well he kissed his wife the last time
The boiler did explode
He put her on the lifeboat
Said 'I won't see you no more'