Paddy West

As I was a walkin' down London Road

I come to Paddy West's house

He gave me a feed of American hash;

And He called it Liverpool scouse

He said "There's a ship that's a wantin' hands

And on her you'll quickly sign

The mate is a tyrant, the bosun's worse

But she will suit you fine"

Put on yer dungaree jacket

And walk up lookin' your best

And tell them that your a poor sailor lad

That came from Paddy West

Now when we had a feed me boys

The wind began to blow

He sent me in the attic

The main-royal for to stow

But when I got up in the attic

No main-royal could I find

So I turned around to the window

And I pulled the window blind

Put on yer dungaree jacket

And walk up lookin' your best

And tell them that your a poor sailor lad

That came from Paddy West

Now Paddy he piped hands on deck

Their stations for to man

His wife she stood in the doorway

With a bucket in her hand

And Paddy cried out, "Now let 'er rip!"

And she flung the water our way

Sayin' "Clew up your fore t'gan'sl, boys

She's takin' in the spray!"

Put on yer dungaree jacket

And walk up lookin' your best

And tell them that your a poor sailor lad

That came from Paddy West

There's only one thing for you to do

Before you sail away

Just step around the table

With the bullock's on display

And if they ask "Were you ever at sea?"

You can say "Ten times 'round the Horn"

You can tell 'em that your a sailor

Since the day that you was born

Put on yer dungaree jacket

And walk up lookin' your best

And tell them that your a poor sailor lad

That came from Paddy West