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Fiddler’s Green has become such a standard on the folk circuit across the world that many people mistakenly regard it as a traditional song. It is in fact relatively new. It was written in 1966 by singer and songwriter John Conolly from Grimsby in Lincolnshire in England. Conolly was steeped in the folk tradition and was proud of the fact that he had written a song with such an authentic feel that people thought it was hundreds of years old.
The newly written Fiddler’s Green was picked up in 1968 by Tim Hart and Maddy Prior, two of the leading lights in the folk world at that time. They recorded it on their album, Folk Songs of Olde England.
from IrishMusicDaily.com
The newly written Fiddler’s Green was picked up in 1968 by Tim Hart and Maddy Prior, two of the leading lights in the folk world at that time. They recorded it on their album, Folk Songs of Olde England.
from IrishMusicDaily.com
Fiddler's Green
by trad
As I [D] walked by the dockside one evening so [Bm] fair
to [D] view the salt water and take the sea [A7] air
I [G] heard an old fisherman [D] singing a [F#m] song
Saying [D] “Take me [G] home boys, me [D] time is not [A7] long!”
( Chorus
Wrap me [D] up in my [A7] oil skins and [D] jumpers
No [G] more on the [D] docks I’ll be [A7] seen
Just [G] tell me old shipmates I’m [D] taking a trip, mates
and [A7] I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s [D] Green )
Now Fiddler’s Green is a place I hear tell
where fishermen go when they don’t go to hell
The skies are all clear and the dolphins do play
While the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away.
Chorus
When you ‘rrive on the docks and the long trip is through
sure theres pubs and there’s clubs and theres lassies there too
The girls are all pretty and the beer it is free
and there’s bottles of rum hanging from every tree.
Chorus
Now I don’t want a harp or a halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
I’ll play me old squeeze box as we sail along
With the wind in the rigging to sing me a song.
to [D] view the salt water and take the sea [A7] air
I [G] heard an old fisherman [D] singing a [F#m] song
Saying [D] “Take me [G] home boys, me [D] time is not [A7] long!”
( Chorus
Wrap me [D] up in my [A7] oil skins and [D] jumpers
No [G] more on the [D] docks I’ll be [A7] seen
Just [G] tell me old shipmates I’m [D] taking a trip, mates
and [A7] I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s [D] Green )
Now Fiddler’s Green is a place I hear tell
where fishermen go when they don’t go to hell
The skies are all clear and the dolphins do play
While the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away.
Chorus
When you ‘rrive on the docks and the long trip is through
sure theres pubs and there’s clubs and theres lassies there too
The girls are all pretty and the beer it is free
and there’s bottles of rum hanging from every tree.
Chorus
Now I don’t want a harp or a halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
I’ll play me old squeeze box as we sail along
With the wind in the rigging to sing me a song.