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The Terrible Sea The Rumjacks

The wind howls mournful and low o'er the hole in his heart Left a note for his Mother to say he'd be joinin' his Da' He said The Devils all pissed 'cause I danced with his daughter I were born to be hung

The Pot & Kettle The Rumjacks

An urban parable built around the famous saying 'pot calling the kettle black' One smoky day in a darkened scullery Doon by the river in a factory town Where bad things happen and the walls are drippn'

Home The Rumjacks

Take me please I beg you, across the emerald sea I'm nearly dead from waiting for your hand to reach for me The day is near upon us, turning a bluish grey The air is getting warmer and it's time we hauled

The Leaky Tub The Rumjacks

icy cold And they'll fight like rotten gull's to pick yer cage On the arms o' villains who'll see yer kidneys sold They'll spare condition, sex nor age And I'll curse the day a thousand shades o' blue

Uncle Tommy The Rumjacks

Early one November me Uncle Tommy joined the army Kitted him out for danger and ferried him o'er the sea He threw me o'er his shoulder, sang to me a dirty ditty Telling me when I were older you'll be just

I Smell Trouble The Rumjacks

I smell trouble, its stinkin' up the streets I'm tapin' up the windows and I'm burnin' all the sheets Trouble, come walkin' through the door Like I trod in somethin' horrible and dragged o'er the floor

Blows & Unkind Words The Rumjacks

Devil his work is complete We'll sing 'share the love' but we can't share the streets It's the kick in the arse it's the kiss on the cheek It's the blows and unkind words My conscience rings like a siller

One Summers Day The Rumjacks

They married in the civic hall, avoiding all the rigmarole A prick of a man we liked to call 'Cock a doodled Andy' Drank a pint o' 'truth be told', called the bride a filthy moll There the party lost control

An Irish Pub Song The Rumjacks

There's a county map to go on the wall A hurling stick and a shinty ball The bric, the brac, the craic and all Lets call it an Irish pub Caffreys, Harp, Kilkenny on tap The Guinness pie and that cabbage

Big Man Down The Rumjacks

They in their black battalion go Fit to weep, dressed to kill, to the chapel on the hill Through the wind and the blistering snow Unafraid, undisguised, to put pennies in his eyes The twist of a grin,

Spit In The Street The Rumjacks

Crackles in the blisterin' heat Where all the women they dress like high priced hookers And the men all spit in the street Oh I set out this mornin' in steel capped shoes I paid a hard earned dollar for

400 Miles Away The Rumjacks

I'll ride again o'er the border, if it takes me all my days Where the sun rises through the pollution and sets her walls ablaze Gimme somethin to help with the shakin' or to kill the roarin' pain It's

A Fistful O' Roses The Rumjacks

o This old town has gone to bits, all the folk are off their tits Screamin', Hoo rah Hurry the fuck t'blazes A right parade o' fools come to stomp all o'er yer jewels Like a fistful o' half dead roses

The Black Matilda The Rumjacks

By the windy shores o Canada bay I broke my fast for Lucia's day A beguiling figure she blew my way and rattled me rovin' heart The snipers crack, the metronome of pricy heels on polished stone That I

The Jolly Executioner The Rumjacks

It said his blade weighed half a tonne O' Spanish steel, Christ how it shone With a whistle and thump yer dash were done And the axe cared not for who you were He kept a cell below the tower Where he signed

Kathleen The Rumjacks

A tribute from the singer to his Mother and Father When he fell to his knee she thought He mustve spied a penny at his feet And the water in his eye was just the rain Over the Glasgow city street She rifles

McAlpines Fusiliers The Rumjacks

As down the glen came McAlpines men with their shovels slung behind them 'Twas in the pub that they drank the sub and up in the spike you'll find them They sweated blood and they washed down mud with pints

Murder Shanty The Rumjacks

Relax, geez its only a tale of the passing of the seasons and the cycle of life if Nick Cave had written it youd be jerking off by now Here lie the bones o' my wayward love Have mercy on 'em God above

Patron Saint O' Thieves The Rumjacks

A Christmas song from behind the wire Auld Nick patron saint o thieves, murderers and sailors Strike these shackles from me uh huh Slide the bolt from out the door and tear down all the wire My babys growin

Fact'ry Jack The Rumjacks

Pearls of wisdom from a sparkly eyed old barfly Old Jack Drury worked at the brewery Luggin' them bottles and cans 'Til the steam age came crushed six mens jobs And Jackies two good hands So they killed

Bar The Door Casey The Rumjacks

Bar the door Casey, don't let me in My shade'll not cross your dear threshold again Bar the door Casey, mind the way well And send my poor ghost on to heaven or hell We've fought scores of sailors for

WKND (Flash New Breeks) The Rumjacks

A raging tribute to the two most sacred days in any working week Sixteen straight shifts, bust a gut for bugger all 'Til the gaffer hits the bell and spits me outta hell Firin' curses at me bouncin' out

The Reaper And Tam McCorty The Rumjacks

Tam he woke tae find a shadow by the bed Blamed it on the vapors still beleaguerin' his head Scrubbed his chops and dragged an oily bug rake through his hair And wiped the mirror tae find the bogey mimickin

'Eight Beers' Mcgee The Rumjacks

em through your tears They say a man thats born to sing Can scare away his woes And banish all his anger and his pain But the screamin' jn my head Killed the singin' in my soul And i fear i'll never recall

Les Darcy The Rumjacks

A man quizzes his local priest with a view to securing his eternal soul Tell me Father whats the craic Is Jesus really coming back And if he does d'ye think he'll live here in the 'burbs Cos id like to

Me Old Ball & Chain The Rumjacks

Right Hand me down that bottle of tequila from the shelf I'll have a beer to follow and all, here take one for yerself I've been off the piss for ten long years and I've a bloody thirst And I won't be

Mclaughlins Rant The Rumjacks

Well I've come here for the gargle, not tae cop a blast Ye great thick headit ape, I'll stick yer chin right out yer arse Come lookin' for your pound o' flesh, but I've got nothin' left Cause Christian

Zielona Gora The Rumjacks

A beautiful Polish town in Lubusz province, where Bacchus the Roman god of wine peers from every nook and crevice Hot as hell Zielona Gora crackling smile You thief o hearts where were you all the while

Green Ginger Wine The Rumjacks

will I'll cart me arse doon Surry Hills and call her out this evenin' Go on, go well, ye're no catch o' mine Yer clothes in rags, ye reek o' fags and old green ginger wine My sisters aye a leezie into the

No Pockets In A Shroud The Rumjacks

I'd bet you heads or tails if I could find a coin to toss Tho they say the coin that can't be found's the coin that cant be lost If you'd spare a coin old stranger for a pint o liquid gold I'll regale