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lirik lagu stan hugill - haul away joe

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hey don’t yer see that black cloud a-rising?
‘way haul away, we’ll haul away joe!
hey don’t yer see that black cloud a-rising?
‘way haul away, we’ll haul away joe!

now when i was a little boy an’ so me mother told me
‘way haul away, we’ll haul away joe!
that if i didn’t kiss the girls me lips would all grow mouldy
‘way haul away, we’ll haul away joe!

and i sailed the seas for many a year not knowing what i was missing
then i sets me sails afore the gales and started in a-kissing

now first i got a spanish girl and she wuz fat and lazy
and then i got a negro tart – she nearly drove me crazy

i found meself a yankee girl and sure she wasn’t civil
so i stuck a plaster on her back and set her to the devil

sheepskin, pitch, and beeswax, they make a bully plaster;
the more she tried to get it off it only stuck the faster

then i got meself an irish girl and her name was flannigan
she stole me boots, she stole me clothes, she pinched me plate and pannikin

i courted then a frenchie girl, she took things free and easy
but now i’ve got an english girl and sure she is a daisy

so list while i sing to you about me darling nancy
she’s copper-bottomed, clipper-built, she’s just me style and fancy

you may talk about your yankee girls and round-the-corner-sallies
but they couldn’t make the grade, me boys, with the girls from down our alley

we sailed away for the china seas, our boys so neat and handy
the old man in his cabin, boys, a-drinking rum and brandy

we loaded for the homeward run, all hands so free and easy
and in his galley sat the doc, a-making plum-duff greasy

we squared our yards and away we rolled, with the fiddles playing handy
with a roll and go, and a westward ho, and a yankee doodle dandy

oh, king louis was the king of france, afore the revolution
but the people cut his big head off and spoiled his const-tution

then they sent the king away to sea, to learn him how to swim
they sent him wid a bluenose mate who put a squarehead on him

oh, once i was in ireland a-digging turf and taties
but naow i’m on a limejuice ship and a-hauling on the braces

saint patrick was a gentleman, and he come of decent people
he built a church in dublin town and on it set a steeple

from ireland then he drove the snakes, then drank up all the whisky
this made him dance and sing and jig, he felt so fine and frisky

he held high m-ss for forty days before he blessed the steeple
he held high m-ss, ’twas a sorry p-ss, but he couldn’t fool the people

you call yerself a second mate and cannot tie a bowline
ye cannot even stand up straight when the packet she’s a-rolling


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