It's in the evening, after dark
The blackleg miner gangs ta wark
In his moleskin pants and dirty shirt
There goes the blackleg miner
He takes his pick and down he goes
To hew the coal that lies below
There's not a woman in this town row
Would look at a blackleg miner
For Deleva is a terrible place
They rub wet clay in a blackleg's face
Around the pits they run a foot race
To catch the blackleg miner
And don't go near the Segal mine
Across the top they've stretched a line
To catch the throat and break the spine
Of the dirty blackleg miner
Well they take his pick and duds as well
And they hurl them down the Pit of Hell
So off you go and fare thee well
You dirty blackleg miner
So join the union while you may
And don't wait till your dying day
For that may not be far away
You dirty blackleg miner
Blackleg is a slang term for a strike breaker
Guitar chords for Blackleg Miner
Dm C
It's in the evening after dark
Dm Am
The blackleg miner gangs ta wark
Dm C
In his moleskin pants and dirty shirt
Dm C Dm
There goes the Blackleg miner
A soldier and a sailor were walking one day
Said the soldier to the sailor, Let's kneel down and pray
And if we have one prayer may we also have ten
May we have a ruddy litany, said the sailor, Amen
And the first thing we'll pray for we'll pray for some cash
Glory Halleluia, to go on a bash
And if we have one pound may we also have ten
May we have the Bank of England, said the sailor, Amen
And the next thing we'll pray for we'll pray for a wench
Glory Halleluia, may she be French
And if we have one wench may we also have ten
May we have a ruddy harem, said the sailor, Amen
And the next thing we'll pray for we'll pray for our wives
Glory Halleluia, the bane of our lives
And if we have one wife may we also have ten
May they all live in Tipperary, said the sailor, Amen
And the next thing we'll pray for we'll pray for a beer
Glory Halleluia may it give us good cheer
And if we have one beer may we also have ten
May we have a ruddy brewery, said the sailor, Amen
And the next thing we'll pray for we'll pray for the Queen
Glory Halleluia, long may she reign
And if she has one son may she also have ten
May she have a ruddy regiment, said the sailor, Amen
And the next thing we'll pray for we'll pray for the King
A right rotten person to us he has been
And if he has one dose may he also have ten
May he have a ruddy hospital, said the sailor, Amen
And the last thing we'll pray for we'll pray for ourselves
Glory Halleluia and long may we dwell
And if we live one year may we also live ten
May we live to be a thousand, said the sailor, Amen
Ally, bally, ally bally be,
Sittin' on yer mammy's knee
Greetin' fur a wee bawbee,
Tae buy some Coulter's candy.
Mammy gie me ma thrifty doon
Here's auld Coulter comin' roon
Wi' a basket on his croon
Sellin' Coulter's candy.
Poor wee Annie's greetin' tae
Whit can puir wee mammy dae
But gi'em a tanner a `tween the twae
Tae buy mair Coulter's candy.
Ally, bally, ally bally bee,
When you grow up you'll gae tae sea
Makin' pennies for daddy and me
Tae buy some Coulter's candy.
Poor wee soul, you're lookin' awfu' thin
A rachle o' bones covered ower wi' skin,
Soon you'll hae a wee, double chin
Fra sookin' Coulter's candy.
* pronounced “Cooters”.
And it's goodbye, Juliana
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
And it's farewell, Juliana
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
I am bound for to leave you
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
Oh, I am bound for to leave you
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
And it's get by things in order
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
For the packet rides tomorrow
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
And it's Shallow in the morning
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
Just as the day is dawning
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
And it's goodbye, Juliana
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
And it's farewell, Juliana
Shallow, oh Shallow Brown
Gather round you sailors and listen to me
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Ne'er take a young girl on your knee
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh you pinks and posies
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Them Liverpool girls ain't got no comb
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
They comb their hair with a kipper backbone
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh you pinks and posies
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
The wind blows cold around Cape Horn
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
And there ain't no girls to keep you warm
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh you pinks and posies
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
When I was a young man in my prime
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
I took them pretty girls nine at a time
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh you pinks and posies
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
But now I'm old and getting grey
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
I can hardly manage one a day
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh you pinks and posies
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
He was fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on a carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round in the circle game
And the child he tiptoed ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
And words like "when you're older" must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams
Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town
And they tell him "Take your time, it won't be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down"
The years spin by and now the boy is twenty
And the dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams, and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through
Joni Mitchell
Some bright morning when this life is over
I'll fly away
To that home on God's celestial shore
I'll fly away
I'll fly away, O Glory
I'll fly away (In the morning)
When I die, Halleluia, by and by
I'll fly away
When the shadows of this life are gone
I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I'll fly
I'll fly away
I'll fly away, O Glory
Oh, how glad and happy when we meet
I'll fly away
No more cold iron shackles on my feet
I'll fly away
I'll fly away, O Glory
Just a few more weary days and then
I'll fly away
To a land where joys will never end
I'll fly away
I'll fly away, O Glory
I'll fly away (In the morning)
When I die, Halleluia, by and by
I'll fly away
Albert E Brumley
As I went home on a Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside my house where my old horse should be?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
That is a lovely sow that my mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before
As I went home on a Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
That is a lovely blanket that my mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons on a blanket sure I never saw before
As I went home on a Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe upon the chair where my old pipe should be
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe upon the chair where my old pipe should be?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
That is a lovely tin whistle that my mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before
As I went home on a Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Who owns those boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
They are two lovely geranium pots that my mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in geranium pots I never saw before
As I went home on a Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head inside the bed where my old head should be
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Whose is that head inside the bed where my old head should be?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
That is a baby boy that my mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before
As I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a hand upon her breast where my old hand should be
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Whose is that hand upon your breast where my old hand should be?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
That is a lovely nightgown that my mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a nightgown with fingers sure I never saw before
As I went home on a Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing between her legs where my old thing should be
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Whose is that thing between her legs where my old thing should be?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
That is a lovely shillelagh that my mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But testicles on a shillelagh sure I never saw before
Alternative last verse:
As I went home on a Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a man run out the door a little after three
Well I calls me wife and I says to her, Would you kindly tell to me
Who was that man ran out the door a little after three?
Well you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool
Until you cannot see
That is a tax collector that the English sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But an Englishman that could last all night sure I never saw before
I like the flowers and I like the trees
I like the woodlands and the bees
I like the Byrds on their LPs
And I'm a refugee
I wanna be a mole in a hole digging low and slow
I wanna be a fly flying high in the sky
I wanna be a mole in a hole digging low and slow
I wanna be a fly flying high in the sky
I had a friend just as wise as Mr Wise Owl
He could count from one to ten, from A to Z
My friend he was so wise he got religion
That's why I'm alive today and he is dead
I wanna be a mole in a hole...
I had a friend who had a friend in Jesus
He used to read the good book every day
My friend he got so friendly with friend Jesus
Friend Jesus took my only friend away
I wanna be a mole in a hole...
My feet are smelly and my hair's a mess
My teeth are yellow and I've got bad breath
I may look great but I feel like death
And I'm a refugee
I wanna be a mole in a hole digging low and slow
I wanna be a fly flying high in the sky
I wanna be a mole in a hole digging low and slow
I wanna be a fly flying high in the sky
Mike Waterson
Guitar chords for Mole in a Hole
C
I like the flowers and I like the trees
G7 C
I like the woodlands and the bees
C
I like the Byrds on their LPs
G7 C
And I'm a refug-e-e
C Dm7
I wanna be a mole in a hole, digging low and slow
F G7 C
I wanna be a fly flying high in the sky
C Dm7
I wanna be a mole in a hole, digging low and slow
F G7 C
I wanna be a fly flying high in the sky
We're a'met the-gither here to sit and to crack
Wi' oor glasses in oor hands and oor wark upon oor back
And there's no'a trade among them a' can either mend or mak
If it wasna for the wark o' the weavers
If it wasna for the weavers what could we do?
We wouldna ha'e claith made o'oor woo'
We wouldna ha'e a coat, neither black nor blue
Gin it wasna for the wark o' the weavers
The hireman chiels they moch us and crack aye aboot's
They say that we are thin faced, bleached like cloots
But yet for a' their mockery they canna dae withoot's
Na! They canna want the wark o' the weavers
If it wasna for the weavers what could we do?...
There's oor wrichts and oor slaters and glaziers and a'
Oor doctors and oor ministers and them that lives by law
And oor friends in South Americay, though them we never saw
But we ken they wear the wark o' the weavers
If it wasna for the weavers what could we do?...
There's oor sailors and oor sodgers, we ken they're a'bau'd
But if they hadna claithes, faith, they couldna fecht for cauld
The high, the low, the rich and puir, a 'body young and auld
They winna want the wark o' the weavers
If it wasna for the weavers what could we do?...
There's folk that's independent o' other tradesmen's wark
The women need nae barbers and the dyker needs nae clerk
But nane o' them can dae withoot a coat or a sark
Na! They canna want the wark o' the weavers
If it wasna for the weavers what could we do?...
The weaving is a trade that never can fail
As lang's we need ae cloot to keep anither hale
So let us aye be merry ower a bicker o' guid ale
And drink tae the wark o' the weavers
If it wasna for the weavers what could we do?
We wouldna ha'e claith made o'oor woo'
We wouldna ha'e a coat, neither black nor blue
Gin it wasna for the wark o' the weavers
The Work Of The Weavers
We're all met together here to sit and to crack
With our glasses in our hands and our work upon our back
There's nae a trade among them that can mend or can mack
If it was nae for the work o' the weavers.
If it was nae for the weavers what would we do?
We would nae hae clae's made of oor woo'
We would nae hae a coat neither black nor blue
If it was nae for the work of the weavers
There's soldiers, and there's sailors and glaziers and a'
There's doctors and there's meenisters, and them that live by law
And our friends in South America, though them we never saw
But we know they wear the work o' the weavers
If it was nae for the weavers what would we do?
We would nae hae clae's made of oor woo'
We would nae hae a coat neither black nor blue
If it was nae for the work of the weavers
The weaving is a trade that never can fail
As long as we need clothes for to keep another hale
So let us all be merry o'er a pitcher of good ale
And we'll drink to the health of the weavers
If it was nae for the weavers what would we do?
We would nae hae clae's made of oor woo'
We would nae hae a coat neither black nor blue
If it was nae for the work of the weavers