| As I walked by the dockside one evenin' so fair
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| To view the still waters and taste the salt air
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| I heard an old fisherman singing this song
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| «Oh, take me away boys, me time is not long
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| Wrap me up in the oilskins and blankets
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| No more at the docks I’ll be seen
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| Just tell me old shipmates I’m taking a trip, mates
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| And I’ll see you someday in Fiddler’s Green»
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| Now Fiddler’s Green is a place I’ve heard tell
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| Where fisherman go if they don’t go to hell
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| Where the weather is fair and the dolphins do play
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| And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away
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| «Wrap me up in the oilskins and blankets
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| No more at the docks I’ll be seen
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| Just tell me old shipmates I’m taking a trip, mates
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| And I’ll see you someday in Fiddler’s Green»
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| And when you’re in dock and the long trip is through
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| There’s pubs and there’s clubs and there’s lasses there, too
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| The girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
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| And there’s bottles of rum growing on every tree
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| «Wrap me up in the oilskins and blankets
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| No more on the docks I’ll be seen
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| Just tell me old shipmates I’m taking a trip, mates
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| And I’ll see you someday in Fiddler’s Green»
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| And no I don’t want a harp or a halo, not me
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| Give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
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| And I’ll play me old squeezebox as we sail along
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| With the wind in the rigging to sing me this box
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| «Wrap me up in the oilskins and blankets
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| No more at the docks I’ll be seen
|
| Just tell me old shipmates I’m taking a trip, mates
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| And I’ll see you someday in Fiddler’s Green» |