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Rolling Home

by Jim Hancock & Friends

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1.
When I was a little lad, so my mother told me, Way, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe, That if I didn’t kiss the gals, me lips would grow all moldy, Way, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe. Chorus Way, haul away, we’ll haul for better weather, Way, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe. King Louis was the King of France, Before the revolution, Way, haul . . . King Louis got his head cut off, Which spoiled his constitution, Way, haul . . . Chorus The cook is in the galley, Makin’ duff so handy, . . . The captain’s in his cabin, Drinkin’ wine and brandy, . . . Chorus
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chorus Well, it's all for me grog, me jolly, jolly grog, It's all for me beer and tobacco, For I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin' gin, Far across the western ocean I must wander. Where are me boots? Me noggin', noggin' boots! They're all gone for beer and tobacco, For the heels are all worn out, and the toes are kicked about, And the soles are looking out for better weather. chorus Where is me shirt? Me noggin', noggin' shirt! It's all gone for beer and tobacco, For the collar is all worn, and the sleeves they all are torn, The tail is looking out for better weather. chorus I'm sick in the head and I haven't been to bed, Since first I came ashore from me slumber, For I spent all me dough on the lassies, don't ya' know, Far across the western ocean I must wander. chorus extra verse by Jim Hancock: Well. our money was all spent, so to our ship we went, The sea, it looked like whiskey; 'twas an omen, For we set out to find Cathay, but we washed up far away, On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond. Oh, you take the high road and I'll take the low road, And I'll be in Scotland afore ye, Where me and my true love will never meet again, On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond. chorus
4.
Farewell tae Tarwathie, adieu Mormond Hill, And the dear land of Crimond, I bid ye farewell, I am bound out for Greenland and ready to sail, In hopes to find riches in hunting the whale. Adieu to my comrades, for awhile we must part, And likewise the dear lass what fair won my heart, The cold ice of Greenland, my love will not chill, The longer my absence, more loving she feels. The cold coast of Greenland is barren and bare, No seed-time nor harvest is ever known there, The birds here sing sweetly o'er mountain and dale, But there is nae a birdie who'll sing to the whale. There is no habitation for a man to live there, And the king of that country is the fierce Greenland bear, There'll be no temptation to tarry long there, With our ship bumper full, we'll homeward repair.
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La Romanesca 03:23
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It's a damn tough life, full of toil and strife, We whalermen undergo. And we don't give a damn when the gale is done, How hard the winds did blow, 'Cause we're homeward bound from the arctic ground, With a good ship, taut and free, And we won't give a damn, when we drink our rum, With the girls of old Maui. chorus Rolling Down to old Maui, me boys; Rolling down to old Maui, We're homeward bound from the arctic ground; Rolling down to old Maui. Once more we sail with the northerly gale, Through the ice and wind and rain, Them coconut fronds, them tropical lands, We soon shall see again, Six hellish months we've passed away, On the cold Kamchatka Sea, But now we're bound from the arctic ground; Rolling down to old Maui. chorus Once more we sail with the northerly gale, Towards our island home, Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done, And we ain't got far to roam, Our stuns'l bones is 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 through the island trees, Now the ice is far astern, Them native maids, them tropical glades, Is awaitin' our return, Even now their big brown eyes look out, Hopin' some fine day to see, Our baggy sails, running 'fore the gales; Rolling down to old Maui. chorus
7.
I am a young sailor, my story is sad, Though once I was carefree, a free-ramblin' lad, I courted a lassie by night and by day, Ah, but she's gone and left me, and sailed far away. chorus If I were a blackbird, could whistle and sing, I'd follow the vessel, my true love sails in, And in the top riggin', I would there build my nest, And I'd flutter my wings, o'er her lily-white breast. chorus Or if I were a scholar, could handle the pen, A secret love letter, to my true love I'd send, I'd tell of my sorrow, my grief and my pain, Since she's gone and she left me, in yon flow'ry glen. chorus My friends they do chide me, they will not agree, Sayin' me and this false love, were never to be. I will let them chide me; let them say what they will, While there's breath in my body, she's the one that I love still. chorus
8.
Well, in fifteen-hundred and twenty-one, I put me courtly breeches on, I put me courtly breeches on, To work for old King Henry. chorus1 Fil-a-me-or-i-or-i-ay, Fil-a-me-or-i-or-i-ay, Fil-a-me-or-i-or-i-ay, workin' for old King Henry. In fifteen-hundred and twenty-two, I left the old world for the new, Bad says to the luck that brought me through, to work . . . chorus1 In fifteen-hundred and twenty-three, 'Twas then I met sweet Biddy McGee, Finest wife she's been to me, . . . . chorus1 In fifteen-hundred and twenty-five, 'Twas then I felt more dead than alive, . . . . chorus1 In fifteen-hundred and thirty-seven, Sweet Biddy McGee, she went to heaven, If she left one kid, she left eleven, to work . . . chorus1 What you gonna do with a drunken sailor? (3X) Early in the morning? chorus2 Way, hey, up she rises; (3X), early in the morning. You shave his belly with a rusty razor, (3X) early in the morning. chorus2 Put him in a longboat 'til he's sober . . . . chorus2 You throw him in the bilge and you make him drink it . . . . chorus2 Put him in a cabin with the captain's daughter . . . . chorus2 Well, you've never seen the captain's daughter . . . . chorus2 Well, that's what you do with a drunken sailor . . . . chorus2 Well it's, "Pat do this, and Pat do that," without me stocking or cravat, Nothing but an old plume hat, while working for old King Henry. chorus1, chorus2
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I am a sailor stout and bold; long time I've plowed the ocean, I've fought for King and country, too; won honor and promotion, I said, "My brother sailor, I bid you adieu; No more to the sea will I go with you, I'll travel the country through and through, and I'll be a rambling sailor." If you should want to know my name, my name, it is young Johnson, I've got permission from the King to court young girls, and handsome, I said, "My dear, what will you do? Here's ale and wine and brandy, too, Besides a pair of fine silk shoes, to travel with a rambling sailor." The King's permission granted me to range the country over, From Bristol Town to Liverpool; from Plymouth Sound to Dover, And in whatever town I went, to court young maidens I was bent, To marry none was my intent; but live a rambling sailor.
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Rolling Home 03:56
chorus Rolling home, rolling home, rolling home across the sea, Rolling home to dear old England, rolling home, dear land, to thee. Up aloft, amid the riggin’, swiftly blows the favoring gale, Strong as springtime in its blossom, filling out each bending sail. And the waves we leave behind us, seem to murmur as they rise, We have tarried here to bear you, to that land you dearly prize. chorus Full ten thousand miles behind us, and a thousand miles before, Ancient ocean waves to waft us, to those well-remembered shores. Newborn breezes swell to send us, to our childhood’s welcome skies, To the land of friendly faces, and the glance of loving eyes. chorus
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Well, a little drop of wine wouldn't do us any harm, (3X) And we'll all hang on behind. chorus And we'll roll the old chariot along, (3X) And we'll all hang on behind. Well, a little pint of stout, Wouldn't do us any harm . . ., chorus Well, a mighty cask of rum . . ., Well, a night on the town . . ., Well, a night with a wench . . ., Well, all of the above . . ., Well, an end to this song . . .,
13.
I wish I was in Carrickfergus, Only for nights in Balleygrand, I would cross over the deepest ocean, Only for nights in Balleygrand, But the sea is wide, and I can't swim over, Nor have I the wings to fly, If I could find me a handsome boatman, To ferry me over to my love and die. Now in Kilkelly, it is reported, They've marble stones, as black as ink, With gold and silver, I would transport her, But I'll say no more, 'til I get a drink, I'm drunk today, but I'm seldom sober, A handsome rover from town to town, But I am sick now; my days are over, Come all you young lads and lay me down.
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Farewell and adieu, to you, Spanish ladies, Farewell and adieu, to you daughters of Spain, For we've received orders for to sail for old England, But we hope in a short time to see you again. chorus We'll rant and we'll roar, like true English sailors, We'll rant and we'll roar, all along the salt sea, Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England, From Ushant to Scilly be thirty-five leagues. We hove our ships to, with the wind from southport, We hove our ships to, deep soundings to take, We've forty-five fathoms with a white sandy bottom, So we squared our main yard and up channel did make. chorus Now the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor, All on the Downs, that night for to lie, Haul up your shankpainter, stand to your clewgarnets! Cut loose your catstoppers; let tack and sheets fly! chorus Now let ev'ry man drink off his full bumper, Let ev'ry man drink off his full glass, We'll drink and be jolly, and drown melancholy, And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass! chorus
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The Mermaid 03:53
'Twas friday morning, when we set sail, We were not far from the land, When our captain, he spied a mermaid so fair, With a comb and a glass in her hand, chorus And the ocean waves do roll, and the stormy winds do blow, And we poor sailors, go skipping at the top, While the landlubbers lie down below, below, below, While the landlubbers lie down below. Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship, And a brave old man was he, He said, "This fishy mermaid has warned me of our doom: We shall sink to the bottom of the sea!" chorus Up spoke the first mate of our gallant ship, A fine young man was he, He said, "I have a wife in Grimsby-By-The-Sea; Tonight she'll be weepin' for me." chorus Then up spoke the cook of our gallant ship, And a crusty old curmudgeon was he, He said, "I care much more for me pots and me pans, Than I do for the bottom of the sea!" chorus Then three times 'round, spun our gallant ship; Yes, three times 'round spun she, Three times 'round, spun our gallant ship; Then she sank to the bottom of the sea. chorus
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This is part "Best Of", with many new tracks. My first album of seafaring songs.

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released April 2, 2020

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Jim Hancock - The Burly Minstrel Bastrop, Texas

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