I will ask you questions nine
Sing ninety-nine and ninety
To see if you're God's child, or one of mine
And you are the weaver's bonny.
What is whiter than the milk?
Sing ninety-nine and ninety
And what is softer than the silk?
And you are the weaver's bonny;
Snow is whiter than the milking
Sing ninety nine and ninety
And down is softer than the silk
And I am the weaver's bonny.
What is louder than the horn?
Sing ninety nine and ninety
And what is sharper than the thorn?
And you are the weaver's bonny.
Thunder is louder than a horn
Sing ninety nine and ninety
Death is sharper than the thorn
And I am the weaver's bonny..
What is higher than a tree
Sing ninety nine and ninety
And what is deeper than the sea
And I am the weaver's bonny..
Heaven is higher than a tree
Sing ninety nine and ninet
And Hell is deeper than the sea.
And I am the weaver's bonny.
I've found a sweet haven of sunshine at last,
and Jesus abiding above
His dear arms around me are lovingly cast
and sweetly He tells His love
The tempest is o'er
(The danger, the tempest forever is o'er)
I'm safe evermore
(I'm anchored in hope and have faith evermore)
What gladness what rapture is mine
The danger is past
(The water's receding, the danger is past)
I'm anchored at last
(I'm feeling so happy I'm anchored at last)
I'm anchored in love divine
He saw me endangered and lovingly came
To pilot my storm-beaten soul
Sweet peace He has spoken and bless His dear name
The billows no longer roll
The tempest is o'er...
His love shall control me through life and in death
Completely I'll trust to the end
I'll praise Him each hour and my last fleeting breath
Shall sing of my soul's best friend
The tempest is o'er
(The danger, the tempest forever is o'er)
I'm safe evermore
(I'm anchored in hope and have faith evermore)
What gladness what rapture is mine
The danger is past
(The water's receding, the danger is past)
I'm anchored at last
(I'm feeling so happy I'm anchored at last)
I'm anchored in love divine
A.P. Carter
Follow the drinking gourd (x2)
For the old man is a-waiting for to carry you to Freedom
Follow the drinking gourd.
Now when the night-time comes, and the first quail calls
Follow the drinking gourd,
For the old man is a-waiting for to carry you to Freedom
Now the river bank would make a mighty good road,
The dead trees will show you the way,
Left foot, peg foot, travelling on,
Follow the drinking gourd.
The river ends between two hills,
Follow the drinking gourd,
There's another river on the other side,
Follow the drinking gourd.
My father was the keeper of the Eddystone light,
And he slept with a mermaid one fine night,
And of that union there came three,
A porky and a porpoise and the other was me.
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh for a life on the rolling sea.
Late one night when I was a trimmin' of the glim,
And singing a verse of the evening hymn,
A voice from the starboard shouted "Ahoy,"
And there was my mother, sitting on a buoy.
"Oh what has become of my children three,"
My mother then she asked of me,
"Oh, one was exhibited as a talking fish,
The other was served on a chafing dish."
The phosphorus flashed in her seaweed hair,
I looked again and my mother wasn't there,
A voice came echoing out of the night,
"To hell with the keeper of the Eddystone Light."
When I was down in Derby
'Twas on the Derby Day
I saw the finest ram, sir
That ever fed on hay
It's true, sir, 'tis true sir,
I never was one to lie.
Ask anyone in Derby, sir
And he'll tell you the same as I.
This Ram it had two horns, sir,
That reached right up to the moon,
A man went up in December
And didn't come down till June.
This ram it had a tail, sir,
It was too long to tell.
It reached right over to Ireland
And rang St. Patrick's bell.
The man who killed the ram, sir,
Was up to his neck in blood.
The boy who held the basin
Was carried away by the flood
And all the women of Derby
Came running up for his ears
To make a leather purse, sir,
To last for forty years.
And all the boys of Derby
Came scrambling for his eyes.
To make a pair of footballs,
For they were football size.
Were you ever in Quebec
Stowing timber on the deck?
Where there's a king with a golden crown
Riding on a donkey.
Hey, Ho, away we go
Donkey riding, donkey riding
Hey, Ho, away we go
Riding on a donkey
Were you every off the Horn
Where it's always fine and warm
See the lion and the unicorn
Riding on a donkey?
Were you ever in Cardiff Bay
Where the folks all shout "Hooray
Here comes Johnny with his three month's pay
Riding on a donkey".
As I roved by the docks one evening so rare
To view the still water and take the salt air
I heard an old fisherman singing a song
Oh take me away boys, me time it's not long.
Dress me up in me oilskins and jumper
No more on the docks I'll be seen
Just tell me old shipmates
I'm taking a trip mates
And I'll see you someday in Fiddler's Green.
Now Fiddlers Green is a place I've heard tell
Where fishermen go if they don't go to hell
Where the weather is fair and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away.
Now when we're in dock and the long trip is thru
There's pubs and there's parks and there's lasses there too
Where the girls are all pretty and the beer it flows free
And there's bottles of rum growing from every tree.
No I don't need a harp nor a halo nor key
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
And I'll play me old squeezebox as we sail along
With the wind in the rigging to sing me this song.
Mrs. Jones she had a mangle,
She did turn it with a handle
She did turn it with such power
She did forty miles an hour
Did you ever see (x2)
Did you ever see such a funny thing before.
There's a little pub in Wales
Where they sell the best of ales
If you want a drink on Sunday
You will have to wait till Monday.
Oh I had a brother Rupert
He did play full back for Newport
But whilst playing at Llanelly
They did kick him in the belly.
Oh I had a brother Ikey
Who did ride a motor biky
And he said he rode to Gower
In a quarter of an hour.
Then I had a sister Phyllis
Who did work at Pontardulais
But the boss he had to sack her
'Cos he caught her chewing 'bacca'.
Oh I had a brother Trevor
He was very, very clever
He could play upon the fiddle
Up the sides and down the middle
Oh I had a sister Anna
She did play the grand pianna
When she played full presto
All the buttons fly off her vesto.
If you miss the train I'm on, You will know that I am gone,
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles,
A hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles, a
hundred miles
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.
Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two, Lord I'm three
Lord I'm four, Lord I'm five hundred miles from my home,
Five hundred miles (x4)
Lord I`m five hundred miles from my home
Not a shirt on my back,
Not a penny to my name,
Lord I can't go home this-a-way,
This-a-way (x4)
Lord I can't go home this-a-way.
Guitar chords for Five Hundred Miles:
Em G Am C
If you miss the train I’m on, you will know that I am gone
D C D
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles
Em G
A hundred miles, a hundred miles
C Am
A hundred miles, a hundred miles
D C Em
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles
Em G Am
Lord I’m one, Lord I’m two, Lord I’m three
C D C D
Lord I’m four, Lord I’m five hundred miles from my home
Em G
Five hundred miles Five hundred miles
Am C
Five hundred miles Five hundred miles
Am C G
Lord I’m five hundred miles from my home
Come all you bold heroes lend an ear to my song
I will sing you the praise of good brandy and rum
If the clear crystal fountains o'er England shall roll
Bring me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl
I'll fathom the bowl,
I'll fathom the bowl,
Bring me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl
From France we do get brandy from Jamaica comes rum
Sweet oranges and apples from Portugal come
But stout and strong cider are England's control
My wife she do disturb me as I sits at my ease
For she says as she likes and she does as she please
My wife she is a devil _ heart's black as the coal
My father he do lie in the depths of the sea
With no stone at his head but what matters for he
If the clear crystal fountains o'er England shall roll
Later less tradtional additional verses:
Consider Maggie Thatcher, the beast of the land,
She corrupts and destroys everything that's at hand
With landslide elections she taxes the poll
Prime Minister John Major, the greyest of men
Well he skulks and he hides down in old No.10
He closes our industry, throws us on the dole