The sea is quite rough

We’ll sail out around Lambay

Untie the tight lines

It’s time to heave away.


The sun is quite high

The deck slowly drying

Hoist up the big white sail

Let the wind be flying



We’ll put to sea

We’ll sing a shanty

Let the wind guide me

We’ll put to sea

We’ll sing a shanty

Let the wind guide me

All around Lambay

All around Lambay.


Out from the Skerries shore

Into the words of Yeats

Past Shenicks Island

Where the wave dictates


We’ll glide over shipwrecks

And the souls that rise

From the untold story

Of Tayleur's demise.






We may see rock roos

Wild red necked wallabies

Scuffle ‘long grassy hills    

Far from the Tazzie seas


On this ancient east coast

From the very first day

The first sailors sailed

Like today around Lambay





We’ll put to sea

We'll put to sea

We'll put to sea

We'll put to sea

All around Lambay x4

We’ll put to sea around Lambay


All around Lambay


We'll sail out around Lambay.


M Y  H O M E  T O W N


I can smell the rain on the dusty ground

Playing conkers from the trees ya found

Watching tractors cut the meadow grass

On the wall watch the world go past


Bring me back to my home town

By the quiet fields

Near the ash trees

Bring me back to my home town

To its slumber

It’s burning ember

Running down the old wood lane

To ruins of barns to shelter rain

Swinging on that seat ya made

The sky is clear it’s a different shade

The river floods with no regard for man

A lake vista from where ya stand

Dandelion seeds blow through the air

Of this darling town and its debonaire.

Pat The Fisherman

The [G] wind, the sea, the sky, and waves, I [Eb] know

Where I stand on the open ocean, I [G#] float

Wherever the current pulls me to, I [G#] go

I’m in Neptune’s palms of mercy, I [C#] show

No signs of going to shore, I [f#/D] feel At home on the lonely tides, I [C#] breath Fresh air through my soul, I [G#] bleed Salt water that [Eb] flows inside of [G#] me.


I’m Pat the [G#] fisherman

Hooked on the [C#] ocean

Like a [G#] madman

I’m not [C#] for the land


The trees, the sand, the rocks, and hills, I don’t

Belong to this environment, I grow

Tired of the steady ground, I blow

A leaf from my hand, in hope

Of returning to open sea, I’ll drift

Like a salt worn wooden man, I’ll lift

My hands through foam and waves, I need

The ocean water under me



The [G#] wind, the sea, the sky, the waves, the [C#] current, the foam, the bow, the sails X4

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