The Black Matilda

The Rumjacks

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    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 were soon to call my own by way o' the ancient art

    I were cozened by a whiff-o-the-whim that scours the Costa harryin'
    The likes o' men who've lost the lamp, the rudderless and bewildered
    The sands below are littered wi' bones o' those who've taken a belly o' stones
    And turned their backs on wives and homes to follow the black Matilda

    Ho-ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts and hope to die
    If e'er ye're drawn beneath a murky fathom of her eye
    Ho-ro my lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
    Ye'll never again be able to lift yer head so bloody high

    For even the boys of Inverary know, from Tortuga to Jericho
    She took three hundred souls below off the deck o' the Andalusia
    The poets and the Sages tried to warn us down the ages
    Their blood drips from the pages where they tell o' the Black Matilda

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    She pursed her lips and spun a tune as fine as any silk cocoon
    That's ever left McEacherns loom & held me there in a tawper
    A bastard I was born y'ken? I lived as tho' I'd never end
    I'll die a disenchanted man, they'll bury me as a pauper
    For men have drowned and men have swung, the brig at Iron Cove were hung
    Wi' a garland of the old, the young, all battered & unfamiliar
    there's no poetry there's no tune, no point in howlin' at the Moon
    A caution to ye very soon ye'll waltz yer Black Matilda

    Ho-ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts and hope to die
    If e'er ye're drawn beneath a murky fathom of her eye
    Ho-ro my lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
    Ye'll never again be able to lift yer head so bloody high

    For even the boys of Inverary know, from Tortuga to Jericho
    She took three hundred souls below off the deck o' the Andalusia
    The poets and the Sages tried to warn us down the ages
    Their blood drips from the pages where they tell o' the Black Matilda

    By the windy shores O' Canada bay I blew my friggin brains away
    Its not as tho' I'm proud to say, its not as tho I coulda killed her
    I'm off to Hells begotten shores where men like me have sailed before
    And they shall sail forever more in the name o' the Black Matilda

    Ho-Ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts & hope to die
    Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry!
    Ho-Ro m'lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
    Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye die!
    Ho-Ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts & hope to die
    Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry!
    Ho-Ro m'lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
    Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry
    Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry
    Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry
    Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye die!

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