1. |
The Life of A Man
03:13
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As I was a-walking one morning at ease
Viewing the leaves as they fell from the trees
They were all in full motion, or appearing to be
But those that were withered, they fell from the tree
Chorus: So what is the life of a man? Any more than the trees?
A man have his season, so why should he grieve?
We are out in this wide world, so happy, light and gay
But like the leaves we all shall wither and soon fade away.
Now you should have seen those leave but a short time ago
They were all in full motion or appearing to grow
Then the frost came and bit them and withered them all
And the storm came upon them, and down they did fall
Down in yonder churchyard many names you will
Who have fallen from this world like the leaves from a tree
Old age and affliction upon them did fall
But death and disease came and blighted them all
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2. |
Race of Long Ago
03:05
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Well I never done much good in me life
Been a waster through and through
And the only things I've ever done
Were the things I wanted to do
I've wasted me chances and me pay
Of these thing I've had me share
For I was one of the Clansman's crew
When we raced the Robin Adair
We had a big buck mate and a boss- eyed Swede
And a boy from County Clare
And we made the starboard watch
When we raced the Robin Adair
Kelly lost his life on tops'l yard
On a polestar years ago
And Clancy died with a knife in his side
In a bar in Kal-i-o
Billy got married and he settled down
And the rest are God-knows-where
But that was oh so long ago
When we raced the Robin Adair
Well it was yardarm to yardarm at Sydney Heads
And then she started to blow
And soon the Clansman was reelin' 'em off
At fifteen knots or so
The old man grinned as he faced the wind
Said "This is the weather for her"
"My lads!" he cried, "You've seen the last
Of that wonderful Robin Adair"
But early one morning at the break of day
Just at the rising sun
We spied a ship, hull down astern
And coming along like fun
The old man swept a glass to his eye
And you should have heard him swear
For up from the south, with a bone in her mouth
There came the Robin Adair
Well, we had to pile the canvas on
And it had to stay there too
There was a fair old breeze in the morning time
But at night, by God, it blew
I've seen some strange thing in me time
But I tell it made me stare
Cracking on sail in a bisky gale
Just to beat the Robin Adair
Well we made the London river then
At twelve of the Wapping clock
And we counted the chimes as we tied her up
To the b(u)oys on London dock
We'd run the race in forty- nine days
With the tail of the tide to spare
But that was oh so long ago
When we beat the Robin Adair
Now these old ships have gone to chips
These forty years or more
She was sold away to foreign bunch
And the bastards ran her ashore
Somewhere north of the Lindis Naize
And south of the Straits la Maire
With the fishes cruising around her ribs
There lies the Robin Adair
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3. |
Rigs of the Time
04:14
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It's of an old butcher, I must bring him in
He charge two shillings a pound and he thinks it no sin
Slaps his thumb on the scale weight and and makes it go down
He swears it's good weight, yet it wants half a pound
Chorus:
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time, time me boys
These are the rigs of the time
The next is the baker, I must bring him in
He charge fourpence a loaf and he thinks it no sin
When he do bring it in, it's no bigger than your fist
And the top of the loaf is popped off with the yeast
No wonder that butter be a shilling a pound
See the little farmer's daughter, how they ride up and down
If you ask him the reason he'll swear "Bonaparte
There is a French war, so the cows have no grass"
And now to the publican, I must bring him in
He charge fourpence a quart and he thinks it no sin
When he do bring it in the measure is short
And the top of the pot is popped off with the froth
The next is the tailor who skimps on our clothes
And now the shoemaker who pinches our toes
We've naught in our bellies, our bodies are bare
It's no wonder we've reason to curse and to swear
The very best plan I ever did find
Was to set set 'em all up in a high galeo' wynd
And when they get up, the cloud it will burst
And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first
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4. |
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It was one fine morn all early in spring
I went on board to serve my King
Leaving my dearest girl behind
She always told me her love was mine
I built my love a little boat
On the ocean waves that she might float
And every ship that passed her by
She might inquire of her sailor boy
So she set sail across the the deep
And a big King's ship she chanced to meet
Come tell me bold sailor, come tell me true
Is my boy Bill on board with you?
Ah, no fair maid, he is not here
He's dead and gone I do declare
On yonder waves that roll so high
There I lost sight of your sailor boy
She wrung her wrists and tore her hair
Like some poor girl in deep despair
Her little boat on the rocks did run
Oh, what shall I do now my sailor's gone
I will go home and write a song
I'll write it clear and write it long
And every line i'll shed a tear
And every verse, farewell my dear
Three days later this maiden died
Leaving this song by her bedside
To tell the world of why she died
She could not be a sailors bride
So dig her grave both wide and deep
And on it plant the lilies sweet
And on here breast put turtle doves
To tell the world that she died for love
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5. |
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'Twas in the pleasant Month of May in the springtime of the year
It was down by yonder meadow there runs a river clear
Look at those little fishes, see how they sport and play
Makes many a lad and many a lass go there for to make hay
Now in come the jolly scythesman the hay for to mow down
With his good old leathering bottle and the beer that is so brown
There's many of stout labouring men go there their skill to try
They cut, they smow, they lace, they glow and the grass cuts very dry
In come the jolly scythesman with a pitchfork and a rake
And likewise Black-eyed Susan the hay all for to make
There's a long jug- jug and a sweet jug and the nightingales did sing
And from morning 'til the evening we went a- haymaking
Now the day being almost over, the night was coming on
We lay among the cocks of hay 'til rising of the sun
And the larks they they sang most gloriously, each harmless bird did sing
And each lad he took his lassie and they went a haymaking
There's many of stout labouring men go there their skill to try
They cut, they smow, they lace, they glow and the grass cuts very dry
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