Songs & Recordings

This page contains all songs that are in the Secret Shore Singers repertoire. Any new songs will initially be placed on the 'New Songs' Page and will be transferred to this page after two weeks. The songs are listed in alphabetical order for ease of reference. Any so that has (or may have) 'The' at the beginning will be listed in the First letter of the second word. Please note these lyrics are those used by the Secret Shore Singers and may differ from those you already know or those found on the Internet.

Latest version of the Secret Shore Singers Songbook can be accessed here.


A

A-Rovin

In Portsmouth town there lived a maid
Mark well what I do say!
In Portsmouth town there lived a maid
And she was mistress of her trade
I'll go no more a-ro-o-vin with you fair maid                   

Chorus

A-rovin, a-rovin
Since rovin’s bin my ru-i-in
I’ll go no more a-rovin’
With you fair maid

I met this fair maid after dark,
And took her to my favourite park.

I took this fair maid for a walk,
And we had such a lovin’ talk.

I put my arm around her waist,
She said”Young man, you’re in great haste

I put my hand upon her knee,
She said “Young man, your rather free!”

I put my hand upon her thigh,
She said “Young man, you’re much to high!”


I placed my hand higher still,
She said “Young man your quite a frill.

She swore that she’d be true to me,
But she spent my money fast and free.

And when I got back home from sea
A soldier had her on his knee

Notes:
The original A-Rovin is extremely bawdy concerning a sailor who befriends a woman of ill repute and in return she gives him a disease and takes all his money. A-Rovin is often quoted as deriving from a song in Thomas Heywood's play 'The Rape of Lucretia', which was first performed in London about 1630. It too has an amorous encounter with anatomical progressions but there to put it simply, is where all similarity ends.

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B
Bold Fisherman
As I walked out one May morning
Down by the riverside
There I beheld a Bold Fisherman
Come a-rowing with the tide (X2)
There I beheld a Bold Fisherman
Come a-rowing with the tide

Good morning to you Bold Fisherman
How came you fishing here
I came here a fishing for your sweet sake
All on the river so (x2)
I came here a fishing for your sake

He lashed his boat unto a stake
And to this lady went
He took her by the lilywhite hand
Which was his full intent (x2)
He took her by the lilywhite hand
Which was his full intent

He then unfolded his morning gown
And so gently laid it down
There she beheld 3 chains of gold
Hang a-dangling three times round (x2)
There she beheld 3 chains of gold
Hang a-dangling  three time round

She then fell on her bended knees
And so loud for mercy called
In calling you a Bold Fisherman
I fear you are some Lord (x2)
In calling you a Bold Fisherman
I fear you are some Lord

Rise up rise up rise up said he
From off your bended knees
There is not one word that you have said
That has offended me(x2)
There is not one word that you have said
That has offended me

I will take you to my Father’s House
And married you shall be
Then you will have a Bold Fisherman
To row you on the sea (x2)
Then you will have a Bold Fisherman
To row you on the sea

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Note:
The earliest published version appeared in L.E. Broadwood and J.A. Fuller-Maitland's 'English County Songs', 1893, though it probably existed in tradition considerably earlier. Nineteenth Century broadsides of the ballad have been found, but this in itself has supplied little information concerning the true age of the ballad. That it was popular in England is known from its wide distribution though.




Bold Riley

Oh the rain it rains all day long
Bold Riley-o, Bold Riley
And them Northern winds, they blow so strong
Bold Riley-o has gone away

Chorus
Goodbye my sweetheart, goodbye my dear-o
Bold Riley-o, Bold Riley
Goodbye my darlin', goodbye my dear-o
Bold Riley-o has gone away

Cheer up Mary Ellen and don't look glum
Bold Riley-o, Bold Riley
Come White-Stocking day you'll be drinkin' hot rum
Bold Riley-o has gone away

Chorus

We're outward bound for the Bengal Bay
Bold Riley-o, Bold Riley
So bend your backs, its a hell of a way
Bold Riley-o has gone away

Chorus

Our anchor's a-weigh and our sails are all set
Bold Riley-o, Bold Riley
And them Liverpool Judies we'll never forget
Bold Riley-o, has gone away

Chorus

Notes:
White Stocking Day’ was the day each month when a sailor's female relatives dressed up in their best clothes to collect his half-pay or ‘allotment’. However. not all sailors made provision for the women to collect this allotment, preferring to take a larger advance payment for themselves, and this problem inspired the famous Liverpool feminist social campaigner and MP Eleanor Rathbone to demand o more equitable system of providing for sailors’ and soldiers' dependants during the First World War, eventually culminating in her Family Allowances Act of 1945.
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Version with Harmony Here



Bonnie Ship The Diamond, (The)


The Diamond is a ship, my lads, for the Davis Strait she's bound,
And the quay is it all garnished with bonny lasses 'round.
Captain Thompson gives the order to sail the ocean wide,
Where the sun it never sets, my lads, no darkness dims the sky.


Chorus:

So its cheer up my lads, let your hearts never fail,

While the bonny ship the Diamond, goes a a-hunting for the whale.


Along the quay at Peterhead, the lasses stand around,
Their shawls all pulled around them and the salt tears runnin' down;
Don't you weep my bonny lass, though you be left behind,
For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice before we change our mind.


Chorus

Here's a health to the Resolution, likewise the Eliza Swan,
Here's a health to the Battler of Montrose and the Diamond, ship of fame.
We wear the trousers of the white and the jackets of the blue,
When we return to Peterhead we'll have sweethearts anew.

Chorus

It will be bright both day and night when the Greenland lads come home,
With a ship that's full of oil, my lads, and money to our name.
We'll make the cradles for to rock and the blankets for to tear,
And every lass in Peterhead sing “Hushabye my dear”.

Note:
Over-fishing the Greenland Sea in the Nineteenth Century had devastating toll on the whale stocks. A new hunting ground was found in the Davis Straits. In 1830 the Diamond, Eliza Swan and the Resolution along with 17 other whaling ships were caught in the ice of Melville Bay. The ships were lost and main Sailors lost their lives.

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Brave Eleven, (The)

How the brave eleven were lost at sea, Ah me that was a day,
That those who saw will ne’r forget til memory fades away.
The brave eleven who ventured forth and risked their lives to save,
But perished were the goal was reached and found a watery Grave.

T'was a wild November morn just thirty years ago.
We little thought the morn could bring such night of bitter woe.
A cry was raised ‘Ship in distress and signalling for aid’,
Eleven brave fellows manned a boat and duty’s call obeyed.

CHORUS
And the great wind it blew, mighty seas engulfed our gallant crew
Eleven souls were lost that day, not one survived the storm.
Let us remember them we pray, and be thankful for their lives,
God bless the orphans left behind, the mothers and the wives.

No lifeboat then and yet they went, all fearless to their death,
While those who stood upon the shore watched on with baited breath,
And saw the battling manfully with the stormy ocean tide,
On, on until they almost reached the distant vessels side.

Almost, and then a cry arose which spread with awful sound,
The hapless boat had overturned and every soul was drowned.
All perished, not a man was saved of that devoted crew,
In sight of home and friends they died, aye died as heroes do.

CHORUS

Well I never look upon the sea on a Wild November morn,
But I fancy I see a tiny boat on the crested billows born.
And a brave crew battling manfully with their sullen and angry foe,
The brave eleven who died that day just thirty years ago.

Note:
When this sailing vessel was seen in distress in stormy waters 3.5 miles off Worthing during a November storm in 1850, eleven local fisherman sailed out to help. As hundreds of people watched from the shore, the fishing boat suddenly capsized just before it reached the Lalla Rookh. All 11 rescuers were lost, and another team of fisherman rescued the Sailing boats crew. Most of the men who died were married Fathers, and they were performing the role of rescuers voluntarily in the absence of a town lifeboat services. Residents and civic leaders raised more than £5000 for the families of the men killed, and there is a memorial at St Mary's Church in Broadwater in their honour.


D



Davy Lowston


Oh me name is Davy Lowston, I did seal, I did seal,

Oh me name is Davy Lowston, I did seal.

Though me men and I were lost,

And our very lives it cost

We did seal, we did seal, we did seal.



We were set down in open bay, were set down,

were set down,

We were set down in open bay, were set down.

We were left, we gallant men,

Nevermore to sail again,

Never more, never more, never more.



Our captain John McGrath, he set sail, he set sail,

Through the ice to old Port Jackson he set sail.

“I'll return, men, without fail,”

but she foundered in the gale

And went down, and went down, and went down.



We cured ten thousand skins, for the fur, for the fur,

Yes we cured ten thousand skins for the fur.

Brackish water, putrid seal,

We did all of us fall ill,

For to die, for to die, for to die.



So come all you lads who venture far from home,

far from home

So come all you lads who venture far from home,

Where the icebergs tower high,

That’s a pitiful place to die,

Never seal, never seal, never seal.

Note:

Davy Lowston is the story of men left to hunt seal on an Island near New Zealand in 1810. The ship which was supposed to pick them up again was wrecked soon after it dropped them off. As this was unknown to the rest of the sealing community they were presumed missing with sinking. It was until three years after this incident they were eventually picked up rescued from the ice. The song describes the misery and despair which they had to endure before their rescue.


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Duke William


Duke William was a wench's son,

His Granfer was a tanner!

He drank his cider from the tun,
Which is the Norman Manner:
His throne was made of oak and gold,
His bow-shaft of the yew,
That is the way the tale is told,
I doubt if it be true! (Repeat)

But what care I for him?
My tankard is full to the brim,
And I'll sing Elizabeth, Dorothy, Margaret, Mary, Dorinda, Persephone, Miriam, Pegotty, taut and trim (Repeat)

The men that sailed to Normandy,
Foul weather may they find;
For banging about in the waist of a ship
Was never in my mind
They drink their rum in the glory-hole
In quaking and in fear;
But a better man was left behind,
And he sits drinking beer (Repeat)

But what care I for the swine?
They never were fellows of mine!
And I'll sing Elizabeth, Dorothy, Margaret, Mary, Dorinda, Persephone, Miriam, Pegotty, Jezebel, Topsy, Andromeda, Magdalen, Emily, Charity, Agatha, Beatrice, Anna, Cecilia, Maud, Cleopatra, Selene, and Jessica, Barbara stout and fine (Repeat)

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Notes:
This song was composed by Hilaire Belloc. Though little history is made about the song itself it is thought that it was written around the same time as his book, William the Conqueror.


G


Grey Funnel Line
Don't mind the rain, or the rolling sea,
The weary nights never worry me,
But the hardest time in a sailors day,
Is to watch the sun as it dies away
Here's one more day on the grey funnel line


The finest ship that sailed the sea,
Is still a prison for the likes of me,
But give me wings like Noah's dove,
I'll fly above her to the one I love
Here's one more day on the grey funnel line


Oh Lord if dreams were only real,
I'd have my hands on that wooden wheel,
And with all my heart I'd turn her round,
And tell the boys that we're homeward bound
Here's one more day on the grey funnel line

I'll pass the time like some machine
Until blue waters turn to green,
Then I'll dance on down that walk ashore
And sail the grey funnel line no more
Here's one more day on the grey funnel line

Note:
Cyril Tawney wrote this melancholy song in 1959 before he left the Roya Navy. The title 'The Grey Funnel Line' is an euphemism for the Royal Navy, equating to the colour of its funnels. This song, though romantic, does show the boredom, loneliness and longing for home that afflicts many who work on modern screw-driven vessels, be it Royal Navy or Merchant vessels.

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H



Here's A Health To The Company

Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme
Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine
Come lift up your voices, all grief to refrain
For we may or might never all meet here again

Chorus

Here's a health to the company and one to my lass
Let's drink and be merry all out of one glass
Let's drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may or might never all meet here again

Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well
For her style and her beauty there's none can excel
There's a smile on her countenance as she sits on my knee
There's no man in this wide world as happy as me

Chorus

Our ship lies at anchor, she is ready to dock

I wish her safe landing without any shock
And if ever I should meet you by land or by sea
I will always remember your kindness to me


Note:
Here's a Health to the Company is an Irish Traditional song, based in the long history of emigration from Scotland and Ireland. Its strong tune has also been used for other Irish traditional songs and for the American Anthem, The Liberty Song.

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Harmony version, listen Here


High Barbaree

There were two lofty ships that from old England came,
Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we.
One was the Prince o' Luther and the other Prince o' Wales,
A-Sailing down along the coast of High Barbaree.


Aloft then, aloft our jolly Bosun cried,
Look ahead, look astern, look a-weather and a-lee,
There's naught upon the stern and there's naught upon the lee,
But there's a lofty ship to windward and she's sailing fast and free,


Ahoy then, ahoy,  our gallant captain cried,
Are you a man-o'-war or a privateer,” cried  he,


I'm not a man-of-war, nor a privateer,” cried  he,
I am a lofty pirate-ship, come lookin' for my fee


Then broadside to broadside, we fought all on that day
Until the Prince o' Luther shot the pirate's mast away,


Have mercy, have mercy, the pirates then did plea,
But the mercy that we showed to them, we sand them in the sea,


But oh, it was a cruel sight and grieved us full sore,
To see them all a-drowning as they tried to swim to shore.

Note:
High Barbary was the romantic name for the Rif Coast of North Africa. It was the home of the Barbary Pirates or Barbary Corsairs who preyed on European shipping to capture Christian slaves from the Sixteenth Century up to 1830. 'High Barbaree' tells the tale of two English ships with a single pirate ship and, unsurprisingly win the battle. The song was sung at sea as a forebitter and as a capstan shanty.

I

Its Time to Go Now

It's time  to go now,
Haul away your anchor,
Haul away your anchor,
It's our sailing time.

Get some sail upon her,
Haul away your halyards,
Haul away your halyards,
It's our sailing time.

Get her on her course now,
Haul away your foresheets,
Haul away your foresheets,
It's our sailing time.

Waves are surging under,
Haul away down Channel,
Haul away down Channel,
On the evening tide.

When your sailings over,
Haul away to Heaven,
Haul away to Heaven,
When your sailings done.

It's time to go now,
Haul away your anchor,
Haul away your anchor,
It's our sailing time.

Note:
This song is also referred to as 'Padstow Shanty' or 'The Farewell Shanty' and is considered by some as a recent addition to the shanty list. It was credited to Mervyn Vincent, who lived, sang and taught near Padstow. One version of the story identifies that it was discovered in an old 'Chap Book' (Street music), and Vincent then set it to music. Others however say it was discovered in a book by Alan Molyneaux who found it tucked away in a book as he was doing research at Plymouth Library.


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J
John Kanaka

I heard, I heard the old man say
John Kanaka-naka tu-lai-ay
Today, today is a holiday
John Kanaka-naka tu-lai-ay

Tu-lai-ay, Oh! tu-lai-ay!
John Kanaka-naka tu-lai-ay!

We’ll work tomorrow but no work today,
For today, today is a holiday

We’re outward bound from London town,
Where all the girlies they come down

We’re bound away for ‘Frisco Bay,
We’re bound away at the break of day

We’re bound away around Cape Horn,
Where we’ll wish to God we’d never been born!

Oh haul, oh haul, oh haul away,
Oh haul away and’ make your pay

Tu-lai-ay, Oh! Tu-lai ay!
John Kanaka-naka tu-lai-ay!

Note:
This is identified as a 'long haul' Shanty, used at the halyards for hoisting up the sails. Many Hawaiians worked aboard ships that sailed the Pacific, and were renowned for excellent seamanship. English speaking sailors often had difficulty pronouncing their names, therefore called them by the Hawaiian name 'Kanaka', which translate to 'Hawaiian Man'. The lyrics 'tu lai-e' also comes from the Hawaiian language, mean 'Awaken'.  A remnant of the Shanty singing tradition is a combining the music and language of  different sea-faring cultures.

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L

Leave Her Johnny
Oh the work was hard and the wages low
Leave her Johnny, leave her
And now is the time for us to go
And it's time for us to leave her

Chorus
Leave her, Johnny leave her
Oh,leave her Johnny, leave her
For the voyage is done and the winds don’t blow
And it's time for us to leave her

I thought I heard the Old man say
Tomorrow you will get your pay

The wind blew foul and the seas ran high
She shipped in green and none went by

The mate was a bucko and the old man a turk
And the bosun was a devil with the middle name of work

The Old Man swears and the mate does too
The crew all swear and so would you

The Starboard pump is like the crew
It's all worn out and will not do

Well I pray that we should n’er more see
A hungry ship the likes of she
Chorus x2


Note:
This song was sung at the end of a voyage, at the halyards (in which case without the chorus), at the capstan when warping into the dock, or at the pumps so as to leave her dry. The song is supposed to sum up all the resentment of a ship that had been accumulated during the voyage. It is believed that the origins of a shanty is 'Across the Rockies' which was sung on Western Ocean Packets, possibly as early as the time of the Potato Famine (1845 - 1849).


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Little Fighting Chance
On the fourteenth of July, so clear it was the sky,
A lofty sail of French ships came bearing down so nigh;
Came bearing down upon us right clear out of France
And the name that we gave her was the little Fighting Chance.


Chorus

So cheer up, my lively lads for it never shall be said
That the Sons of old Britannia shall ever be afraid.

Well, now my brave boys, the gunshots they are come.
We’ll hoist up English Colours and we’ll give to them a gun.
From broadside to broadside, we’ll show them gallant sport
Till their lofty yards and topsails come a-tumbling overboard.

Chorus

We fought them four full hours, the battle being so hot.
There were fourteen of our foremost men lay dead on the spot,
There were six more they were wounded, there were twenty Lads in all.
We will cut down those white lilies of the French dogs one and All.

Chorus


All now, my brave boys, the prize is all our own,
What shall we do for jury-masts, suppose that they have gone
We’ll take her into harbour with a sweet and pleasant gale
And we’re early in the morning at the head of old Kinsale.

Chorus


And now, my brave boys, since we are safe on shore,
We’ll make those lofty ale-houses and taverns for to roar.
Here’s a health to King George and all of his royal fleet.
We will smother all those Frenchman wherever we do meet.


Note:
The tale told in 'The Fourteenth of July', is a forebear of the amazing exploits of such as the 'Great Wilson' and 'Roy of the Rovers'. It re-affirms what must be the oldest tradition of the lot - the innate superiority of the lone Englishmen (vessel) over veritable hordes of wretched foreigners. This song was collected by Rev. John Broadwood.

Littlehampton Collier Lads
Come harum, scarum Collier lads from 'Hampton town we steer,
We face all kinds of weather and we likes a drop of beer
Some people say how rough we are but merrily are we,
The money we earn so hard at sea we spend on land so free.
Chorus

Watch us, twig us with a popular jou-bi-jou,
We’ll give her some sheet to make her rip, we’re the lads to pull her through,
You ought to see us running with our square sail all a full
From the passage from Newcastle to the town of Whitestable

Our old skippers a roosteroo, he likes a drop of ale,
The second division has been in prison and seen inside of a jail
The third he is a bushranger, he comes on deck with a smile
And as for the cook, you can tell by his look that he comes from an African isle.

Chorus

When our coal is all onboard for ‘Hampton town we steer,
And nothing else in our heads but old George Oliver's beer,
We face all stormy weather and we batter through every gale,
When the outer light is out of sight it’s then we set our sail.

Chorus

People say we’re a noisy lot when we come home from sea,
We call for liquor merrily and cheerily are we,
But when our money is all gone to sea we’ll go again,
We are the boys to rough it though we never do complain
Chorus (x2)

Note:
Steve Roud has traced an earlier version of this song to Grimsby, which is clearly an earlier version of the American Shanty 'The Knickerbocker Line'. The 'Old George Oliver' mentioned in the song really existed and ran a Pub in River Road, Littlehampton. from at least from 1871 to 1901. Collier lads were not held in high regard and held none of the romance of the sailors on the Clipper Ships or the Deep Sea Trawler Men. But their walk could be dangerous and there were many cases of vessels overloaded with coal, floundering and sinking off the Sussex Coast. This song is all about the collier crew giving themselves a pat on the back

Loyal Lover

I'll weave my love a garland.
It shall be dressed so fine,
I'll set it round with roses,
With lilies pinks and thyme
And I'll present it to my love
When he comes home from sea,
For I love my love, and I love my love,
Because my love, loves me.

I wish I were an arrow,
That sped into the air,
To seek him as a sparrow,
And if he was not there
How quickly I'd  become a fish,
To search the raging sea,
For I love my love, and I love my love,
Because my love, loves me. 

I would I were a reaper,
I'd seek him in the corn,
I would I were a keeper,
I'd hunt him with my horn.
I'd blow a blast, when found at last,
Beneath the greenwood tree,
For I love my love, and I love my love,
Because my love, loves me.

Note:
'The Loyal Lover' is a song from Lucy Broadwood's English County Songs (1893) and from Sabine Baring-Gould's collection of fold songs of Devon and Cornwall, 'Songs of the West' (1913).

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Ladies version, Listen Here


M

Mollymawk

Oh the Southern Ocean is a lonely place,
Storms are many and the shelter scarce,
Down upon the Southern Ocean sailing,
Down below Cape Horn.
Over troubled water under restless skies
You'll see those Mollymawks rise and dive.

Chorus

Down upon the Southern Ocean sailing,
Down below Cape Horn,
Won't you rode the wind and go white seabird,
Ride the wind and go Mollymawk.
Down upon the Southern Ocean sailing
Down below Cape Horn.

Now the Mollymawks glide on those great white wings,
And lord what a lonesome song he sings,
Down upon the Southern Oceans sailing,
Down below Cape Horn
He's no compass and he's got no gear,
There's nobody knows how the Mollymawk steers.


Chorus



He's a ghost of a sailor, so I've heard say,
His body sank but his soul flew away,
Down upon the Southern Ocean sailing,
Down below Cape Horn 
He's got no haven and he's got no home,

Chorus

When I get too old and can sail no more
Set me adrift far away from shore,
Down upon the Southern Ocean sailing
Down below Cape Horn.
You can cast me loose you can set me free,
I'll keep that big bird company.

Chorus

Note:
This haunting song was written by Bob Watson of Reading and describes the thoughts of the ancient mariners who held the albatross in awe. They believed that this mysterious bird, which appeared thousands of mile anywhere, drifting high in the sky, was the carrier of dead sailors' souls on their way to heaven, so sighting an albatross flying overhead was considered good luck. Sailors believed that the mariners souls the Albatross carried had come to protect them from hard. It was also believed because of the albatrosses command of the wind, it was believed they would bring needed winds for the ships sails.

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Mingulay Boat Song

Chorus

Heel y'ho boys, let her go boys,
Bring her head round into the weather,
Heel y'ho boys, let her go boys,
Sailing homeward to Mingulay

What care we boys, how white the Minch is,
What care we boys for wind or weather,
Let her go boys, every inch is
Bringing us nearer to Mingulay

Chorus

Wives are waiting, on the bank boys,
Looking seawards from the heather,
Pull her round boys, pull your oars hard,
Before the sun sets on Mingulay.

Chorus

When the waves are wild and shouting,
When the waves mount ever higher,
Anxious eyes turn ever seaward,
To see us home boys to Mingulay.

Chorus

Ships return now, heavy laden
Mothers holding,  bairns a-crying
They'll return though, when the sun set
They'll return, to Mingulay

2 x Chorus (2nd chorus quieter)


Note:

The Mingulay Boat Song was written by Sir Hugh Robertson (1874 - 1952). He was the conductor of the famous Orpheus Choir of Glasgow. The remote, barren island of Mingulay lies to the South of Barra in the Western Isles. It was a crofting and fishing community of about 160 people until 1912. Isolation, infertile land, lack of proper landing place and the absentee landlord resulted in a gradual disintegration of Mingulay's culture. The process of voluntary evacuation began in 1907 with land raids by the crofters to the neighbouring island of Vatersay; Mingulay is now completely deserted.

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Harmony version, listen Here

N

Northwest Passage
Chorus
Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea;
Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage
And make a Northwest Passage to the Sea.

Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died
Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered, broken bones
And a long-forgotten lonely calm of stones.

Chorus

Three centuries thereafter, I take passage overland
In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his 'sea of flowers' began
Watching cities rise before me, then behind me sink again
This tardiest explorer, driving hard across the plain.

Chorus

And through the night, behind the wheel, the mileage clicking West
I think upon Mackenzie, David Thompson and the rest
Who cracked the mountain ramparts and did show a path for me
To race the roaring Frazer to the sea.

Chorus

How then am I so different from the first men through this way?
Like them, I left a settled life, I threw it all away
To seek a Northwest Passage at the call of many man
To find there but the road back home again.

Note:
Northwest Passage is one of the best known songs by the Canadian musician Stan Rogers. While it recalls the history of early explorers who were trying to discover a route across Canada to the Pacific Ocean (especially Sir John Franklin, who lost his life in the quest), its central theme is a comparison between the journeys of these past explorers and the singers own journey to and from the same region during his various concert locations around the country.

Link to Stan Rogers version here

O

Old Fid

I'll sing me a song of the rolling sky,
To the land that’s beyond the Main
To the ebb' time bell or the salt pork meal,
That I'll never taste me again.
There's many a night I've lied me down,
To hear the teak baulks cry,
To a melody sweet with a shanty-man beat
As the stars went swimming by

Chorus


Don't ask me where I've damn-well bin,
Don't ask me what I did,
For every thumb is a marline-spike,
And every finger's a fid.

I mind the times as we were becalmed,
With never a breath for the sheet,
With a red sun so hot that the water would rot,
And the decking would blister your feet.
And then there's the times, as we rounded the Horn,
With a cargo of silk for Cadiz,
The swell roll was so high it were lashing the sky
Till the whole ruddy world were a fizz!

Chorus

Be it spices from Java or copra from Yap,
Or a Bosun so free with the lash,
It were " Up with the anchor!" and "Roll out the spanker!"
And "Damn it, move faster than that!"
I've loved proud woman from Spain's lusty land,
And I've seen where the Arab girl sleeps,
And the black girls as well, though they're fiery as hell,
Have all kissed me when silver was cheap.

Chorus

Lord, how the man's changed from the young cabin boy
To the old man that sits on this bench!
Now he's too old to fight or to stay out all night
In the company of some pretty wench.
Just an old clipper-man who's long past his best years,
He knows that he'll never be free
From the smell of the tar that once braided his hair,
From the salty old tang of the sea.

Chorus

Note:
The writer of this song is Bill Lowndes. He and his wife live in quiet retirement in a coast Village in Cornwall. 'Old Fid' himself was a retired Norwegian sailor who settled in the Village. Bill would see him every day sitting on a bench staring out to sea, and eventually Bill got to know him and heard his story. The old man would look down at his hands and say 'Look at 'em - every thumb a marline-spike and every finger a fid;. This gave Bill the starting point for this wonderful song.

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Our Jack Comes Home From Sea Today

Our Jack comes home from sea today,
So brown and bronzed is he,
For many a year he has been away,
From his home, his love and me,
All the things he’s seen
And where he’s been.
So strange, so far away,
You little know the joy we feel,
When our Jack comes home today.

Chorus

Our Jack comes home today,
Our Jack comes home today,
The good ship Jane is in Port again
When our Jack comes home today.

Our Jack comes home from sea today,
What a jolly tar is he,
For many a tale of storm and gale,
He recounts with mirthful glee,
And his heart is true,
As was of old,
His spirit light and gay,
You little know the joy we feel,
When our Jack comes home today.

Chorus

Our Jack comes home from sea today,
To make young Nell his bride,
In love and faith she never despaired,
Though hope within her died,
Her face grew pale,
Her eyes were dim,
She was really pining away,
Now the lovely colours in her face,
When our Jack come home today.


Note:
This song is all about Jack a Sailor, who after many years at sea is coming home. Everyone rejoices at the sailors return. His sweetheart, it is reported, 'never despaired', though all hope within her for his safe return had died. On his returned she was rejuvenated again and they were soon married. Our Jack Comes Home from Sea Today' was a great favorite of the South Coast Ports in the Nineteenth Century.

R


Randy Dandy-O


Now we are ready to head for the Horn

Way, hey, roll an' go!

Our boots an' our clothes boys are all in the pawn
To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Chorus

Heave a pawl, O heave away
Way, hey, roll an' go!
The anchor's onboard an' the cable's all stored
To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Man the stout caps'n an' heave with a will
Way, hey, roll an' go!
Soon we'll be drivin' her 'way down the hill
To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Chorus

Soon we'll be warping her out through the locks
Way, hey, roll an' go!
Where the pretty young gals all come down in their flocks
To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Chorus

Come breast the bar bullies, an' heave her away
Way, hey, roll an' go!
Soon we'll be rolling her 'way down the Bay
To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Chorus

Heave away bullies, ye parish-rigged bums
Way, hey, roll an' go!
Take your hands from your pockets and don't suck your thumbs
To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Chorus

We're outward bound for Vallipo Bay
Wey, hey, roll an' go!
Get crackin', m' lads, 'tis a hell o' a way!
To be rollicking randy dandy-O

Chorus (x2)

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Notes:
This was a capstan or pump shanty. The lyrics shown here date back to at least 1913. The evidence suggests these are a very cleaned up version of the actual lyrics used by some of the old Shanty men. As with many shanties, the verses used at sea in the 18th and 19th century varied over time the geographical location, and the skill of the Shantyman. 


Roll Alabama, Roll


When the Alabama’s keel was laid
Roll Alabama, roll!
It was laid in the yard of Jonathan Laird
Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!


It was laid in the yard of Jonathan Laird
It was laid in the town of Birkenhead


Down the Mersey way she sailed then
And Liverpool fitted her with guns and men

Oh, Roll Alabama, Roll x2


From the Western Isles she sailed forth

To destroy the commerce of the North

The Alabama sailed for two whole years
Took sixty five ships in her career

To Cherbourg port she sailed one day
To take her share of the prize money

Oh, Roll Alabama, Roll x2

Many a sailor lad foresaw his doom
When the Kearsarge it hove into view

Twas a shot from the forward pivot that day
Shot the Alabama’s stern away

Off the three mile limit in sixty four
The Alabama sank to the cold ocean floor

Oh, Roll Alabama, Roll x



Note:
The Confederate Sloop of War CSS Alabama was built by William and John Laird & Co in Birkenhead in 1862. Alabama served as a commerce raider, attacking Union merchant and Naval ships over the course of her 2-year career, during which she never laid ancho in a Southern Port. She was sunk on June 19th 1864 off the coast of Cherbourg by the USS Kearsarge. The lyrics of this shanty are attributed to the Confederate sailor Frank Townsend who served on the ship.


Roll The Old Chariot

We’ll be alright if the wind is in our Sails (x3)

Chorus


And we’ll all hang on behind
And we’ll roll the old chariot along (x3)
And we’ll all hang on behind

We’ll be alright if we make it round the Horn (x3)

Chorus

Well a night on the shore wouldn’t do us any harm (x3)

Chorus

Well a drop of Nelsons blood wouldn’t do us any harm (x3)

Chorus

Well a night with the girls wouldn’t do us any harm (x3)

Chorus


Note:
This is a shanty that is believed to have originated as an African-American spiritual song. It was often used a 'stamp and go' or a 'walk around' shanty, meaning the sailors would hold onto the line and walk with it, creating a steady pull. This was used on ships braces, which swing the yard around. It was also used at the Downtown Pumps, the giant flywheels which resemble the wheels of a Chariot. The manning of the pumps were a labour intensive task which required shanties to relieve the boredom.

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Rolling Down To Old Maui

It's a damned tough life, full of toil and strife
We whalermen undergo.
we don't give a damn when the gale is done
How hard the wind did blow.
We're homeward bound! 'From the Arctic ground
When on a good ship taut and free,
And we don't give a damn when we drink our rum
With the girls on old Maui.

Chorus

Rolling down to old Maui, my boys,
Rolling down to old Maui.
We're homeward bound from the arctic ground
Rolling down to old Maui.

Once more we sail with a northerly gale
Through the ice and sleet and rain.
And them coconut fronds in them tropical lands
We soon shall see again.
Six hellish months we've passed away
In the cold Kamchatka sea,
And now we're bound from the arctic ground,
Rolling down to old Maui.

Chorus

So now we sail with a favoring gale
Towards our island home.
Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done,
And we ain't got far to roam.
Our stuns'l booms are carried away
What care we for that sound?
A living gale is after us,
Thank God we're homeward bound!

Chorus

How soft the breeze of the tropic seas
Now the ice is far astern,
them native maids in them tropical glades
Are awaiting our return.
Even now their big brown eyes look out
Hoping some fine day to see
Our baggy sails running 'fore the gales
Rolling down to old Maui.

Chorus

And now we're anchored in the bay
With the Kanakas all around
With chants and soft aloha oes
They greet us homeward bound.
And now ashore we'll have good fun
We'll paint them beaches red
Awaking in the arms of a wahine
With a big fat aching head

Chorus (x2)

Notes:
This is a traditional 'forebitter' song, one of the songs that sailors sang while at rest, rather than at work. Although the words have been found in records going back to the mid 19th Century, there is some dispute about the accuracy and provenance of the melody. These words have been found in a copybook of a sailor called George Piper, who was on a whaling ship between 1866 to 1872.

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S

Saucy Sailor
Come my own one, come my fair one,
Come now unto me,
Could you fancy a poor sailor lad
Who has just come from sea.

You are ragged love, you are dirty love,
And your clothes smell much of tar,
So be gone you saucy sailor lad,
So be gone you Jack Tar.

If I am ragged love and I am dirty love,
And my clothes smell much of tar,
I have silver in my pocket love
And gold in great store.

And then when she heard him say so
On her bended knees she fell,
I will marry my dear Henry
For I love a sailor lad so well.

Do you think that I am foolish love,
Do you think that I am mad,
For to wed with a poor country girl
Where no fortune's to be had?

I will cross the briny ocean,
I will whistle and sing,
And since you have refused the offer love
Some other girl shall wear the ring.

I am frolicsome, I am easy,
Good tempered and free,
And I don't give a single pin my boys
What the world thinks of me   x2            

Note:
A little gold and silver can go a long way it appears, when it comes to overlooking a certain ragged, dirty and smelly appearance, However Jolly Jack is not taken in by the country girls expression of adoration after she learns what he's got in his pockets, and he then promptly displays an approach to true love which is equally mercenary. An 1887 edition of 'Sailors Songs for Shanties' (Frederick Davis) identifies that the Saucy Sailor as a 'Song for Pumping the Ship Out' and was considered in all likelihood that the song originated on shore sometimes in the 18th Century. A Victorian collector, William Barrett maintained that the Saucy Sailor has been printed since 1781. He cited it as being highly popular with East London factory girls.
           
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Spanish Ladies

Farewell and adieu to you Spanish ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain,
For we're under orders to sail for old England,
And we hope in a short time to see you again.

Chorus:
We'll rant and we'll roar, like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.

We hove our ship to, with the wind from sou-west boys,
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take,
‘Twas forty five fathoms with a white sandy bottom,
So we squared our main yard and up channel did make.

The first land we sighted was call’d the Deadman,
Next Ram Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland and Wight,
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairly and Dover
And then we bore up for the South Foreland light.

The signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor,
And all in the Downs that night for to lie,
Then stand by your stoppers, see clear your shank painters,
Haul up your clew garnets, let tacks and sheets fly.

Now let every man drink off his full bumper,
And let every man drink off his full bowl,
We’ll sing and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here’s to the health of each true hearted soul.

Note:
This is the one song that is accredited to the Royal Navy. It describes a voyage from Spain to the South Downs from the viewpoint of ratings of the Royal Navy. The oldest mention of the present song did not appear until 1796 where it appeared in the logbook of HMS Nellie making it most likely a creation of the Napoleonic era. The timing suggests that the song was created during the War of the First Coalition (1793-1796). It is likely that it gained popularity during the later Peninsular War when the British soldiers were transported by ship. After their victory over the Grande Armee, these soldiers were returned to Britain but were forbidden to bring their Spanish wives, lovers and children with them.

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Sweet Ladies Of Plymouth
Sweet ladies of Plymouth we're saying goodbye
Ro-o-oll down!
But we'll rock you and roll you again bye and bye
Walk her round my brave boys and roll down
And we'll ro-o-oll down!
Walk her round my brave boys and roll down

Now the anchor's aweigh and the sail's unfurled
And we're bound for to take her half way round the world

In the wide Bay of Biscay the seas will run high
And the poor sickly transports they'll wish they could die

When the Cape of Good Hope it is rounded at last
The poor lonesome transports they'll long for the past

When the great southern whales on our quarter do spout
The poor simple transports they'll goggle and shout

And when we arrive off Australia's strand
The poor weary transports they'll long for the land

And when we set sail for old England's shore
The poor stranded transports we'll see them no more

Sweet ladies of Plymouth we'll pay all your rent
And go roving no more 'til our money's all spent

Note:
'Sweep Ladies of Plymouth' was composed by Peter Bellamy in 1977 for a Ballad Opera called 'The Transports'. The ballad was about transportation of the first convicts from England to Australia. Due to the nature of this song it could be classed as a Forebitter which has been adopted as such by many shanty groups and is up there among the great, traditional sea shanties.

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T

They Won't Let Us Go To Sea Anymore
There's gold in the channel where the sun lights the sea
But the boats are all pulled up and stranded like me
I once was a fisherman, now come ashore
'Cause they won't let us go to sea anymore
To sea anymore, No they won't let us go to sea anymore.

In the old town of Hastings the people can see
Our sheds and our tackle – it puts them at ease
And we make a fine sight from above Rock-a-Nore
But they won't let us to go to sea anymore
To sea anymore, No they won't let us go to sea anymore.

And isn't it crazy –when we are so strong
That you can't fight the bullies that are doing us wrong
But you can't fight the faceless – the ghosts of the law
And they won't let us go to sea anymore
To sea anymore, No they won't let us go to sea anymore.

Now I have a young son, he's nearly sixteen
A fine fishing family we always have been
But it feels my heart with sorrow that he'll stay ashore
'Cause they let us go to sea anymore
To sea anymore,No they won't let us go to sea anymore.

There's gold in the channel where the sun lights the sea
But the boats are all pulled up and stranded like me
I once was a fisherman, now come ashore
'Cause they won't let us go to sea anymore
To sea anymore, No they won't let us go to sea anymore.


Note:
This song was written by Barry Dransfield in 1994. Also known as 'I Once Was a Fisherman'. It highlighted issues concerning environmental policy issues surrounding local fishing. Barry lived in Hastings and was concerned about the restrictions on fishing that were forcing people to give up this way of traditional living. Seeing it first hand prompted him to compose this song.

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 Tommy's Gone To Hi-Lo
Tommy's gone on a whaling ship,
Away to Hi lo !
Oh, Tommy’s gone on a damn long trip,
Tom’s gone to Hi lo!

He never kissed his girl goodbye,
He left her and he told her why

 She’d robbed him blind and she left him broke,
He’d had enough, gave her the poke

His half-pay went, it went like chaff,
She hung around for the other half

She drank and boozed his pay away,
With her weather-eye on his next pay day

 Oh Tommy’s gone and he’s left her flat
Oh Tommy’s gone and he won’t come back

Repeat first verse

Note:
'Tommy's Gone to Hilo' was a Tops'll Halyard Song, and one which never found favour with the afterguard, as it took too long  to  hoist a yard to it on account of the slow and lethargic way in which it was sung by a good shantyman. It was rather difficult to sing correctly, but even so it was popular with the crowd, particularly for heavy lifts. Hilo which is mentioned in the song is probably the Por of Ilo, in Southern Peru, well known to sailors working ships in the nitrate trade.


We 3 Jolly Fisherman
(Lead) We are three jolly fishermen

(All)We are three jolly fishermen
We are three jolly fisherman
While the merry, merry bells do ring

(Women)Make haste, make haste
You'll be too late

(Men) One fish, my dear 
I cannot wait

(All) For me fine fry of herring.
My bonny silver herring
See how they sell them.
While the merry, merry bells do ring


We cast our nets into the deep

We bring them fresh to Market

We sell them three for fourpence

We've white and speckled bellied un's

From tail to head they're gleaming

We are three jolly fisherman

Notes:
A song from Whitby in Yorkshire. When the boats landed with the catch, fish were on sale for only a short time before the fishermen and their wives would have to go to church to give thanks. The merry, merry bells are the bells of St Mary's church up on the cliff top

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