**John Conolly **
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 on Fiddler’s Green
Oh, Fiddler’s 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
Where the sky’s always blue and there’s never a gale
Where the fish jump on board with a swish of their tails
Where you lie at your leisure, there’s no work to do
And the skipper’s below making tea for the crew
When you get back to dock and your long trip is through
There’s pubs, and there’s clubs, and there’s lassies there, too
The girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there’s bottles of rum growing on every tree
Well I don’t want a harp nor a halo, not me
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