Revels Pub Sing Sheet

October 5, 2022

Fathom the Bowl

Come all you bold heroes, who to this place have come;
I'll sing you the praises of brandy and rum
Come lift up your glasses, good cheer is our goal,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.

I’ll fathom the bowl, I’ll fathom the bowl;
Give me the punch ladle, I’ll fathom the bowl.

From France we do get brandy, from Jamaica comes rum,
Sweet oranges and lemons from Portugal come,
But beer and strong cider are england’s control,
Give me the punch ladle, I’ll fathom the bowl.


My father he do lie at the depths of the sea
No stone for his head, but what matter to he
There’s a clear crystal fountain near England do roll,
Give me the punch ladle, I’ll fathom the bowl.



Take no scorn to wear the horn
It was the crest when you were born,
Your father’s father wore it 
And your father wore it too.

Hal-and-tow, jolly rumble-O!
We were up long before the day-O,
To welcome in the summer,
To welcome in the May-O;
For summer is a-comin’ in
And winter’s gone away-O!

What happened to the Spaniards,
Who made so great a boast-O?
They shall eat the feathered goose,
And we shall eat the roast-O!


Robin Hood and Little John,
They’ve both gone to the fair-O,
And we will to the merry green wood
To hunt the buck and hare-O!


God bless Aunt Mary Moses
In all her power and might-O,
And send us peace to England;
Send peace both day and night-O!


The Merry Horn

The bright shining morning smiles over the hills,
With rushes adorning the meadows and rills.
The bright shining morning smiles over the hills,
With rushes adorning the meadows and rills.

And the merry, merry, merry horn
	cries come, come away, [repeat]
Awake from your slumber and hail the new day,
Awake from your slumber and hail the new day.

The fox runs before us, he seems for to fly,
And he pants to the chorus of the hunt in full cry.


When our day’s work is ended, we home to retire,
And we pull off our boots by the light of the fire.


Come fill up your glasses, let the toast go around
And we’ll drink to all huntsmen 
	where’er they are found.


Palms of Victory

1. I saw the wayworn trav’ler in tattered garments clad,
And struggling up the mountain, it seemed that he was sad.
His back was heavy laden, his strength was almost gone;
He shouted as he journeyed, “Deliverance will come!”

Then palms of victory, crowns of glory, 
Palms of victory I shall wear.

2. The summer sun was shining, the sweat was on his brow,
His garments torn and dusty, his step was very slow.
Still he kept pressing on ward, for he was wending home;
And he shouted as he journeyed, “Deliverance will come!”


3. The songsters in the arbor he passed along the way
Distracted his attention, inviting his delay.
His watchword being “Onward,” he stopped his ear and ran,
Still shouting as he journeyed, “Deliverance will come!”


4. I saw him in the evening, the sun was bending low,
He’d overtopped the mountain and reached the vale below.
He saw that holy city, his everlasting home;
And he shouted loud “Hosanna, Deliverance has come!”


5. While gazing on that city across the raging flood,
A band of holy angels came from the throne of God;
They bore him on their pinions across the raging foam,
And they joined him in his triumph, “Deliverance has come!”


Air Fa La La Lo
written/adapted by Sir Hugh Roberton

here's a lilt in the song I sing, there's laughter and love.
There's a tang of the sea and blue from heaven above.
Of care there's none and why should there be forby?  
As long as there’s fire in the blood and a light in the eye. 

Air fa la la lo horo er fa la la lay.
Air fa la la lo horo er fa la la lay.
Air fa la la lo horo er fa la la lay.
Fa li fa lo horo er fa la la lay. 

The heather's ablaze with bloom the myrtle is sweet.
There's a song in the air the roads a song at our feet.
So step it along as light as the bird on the wing.
And stepping along let's join our voices and sing. 


And whether the blood be highland, lowland or no.
And whether the skin be white or black as the sloe.
Of kith and of kin we are one be it right be it wrong.
As long as our hearts beat true to the lilt of the song. 


John Barleycorn

There were three men come out of the west
Their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn should die,
John Barleycorn should die.

Fa, la, la, la, it’s a lovely day,
Fa, la, la, la, lay-O!
Fa, la, la, la, it’s a lovely day,
Sing fa, la, la, la, lay.

They plowed, they sowed, they harrowed him in,
Threw clods upon his head,
And these three men were rejoicing then –
John Barleycorn was dead! …


Then there came a shower of rain
Which from the heavens did fall,
And little Sir John sprang up his head
And so amazed them all. …


They hired men with scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee,
They rolled and tied him around the waist
And used him barbarously. …


Then came men with thrastles,
To strip him skin from bone,
But the miller he treated him worst of all –
He ground him between two stones. …


They worked their will upon John Barleycorn
But he lives to tell the tale
We pour him into an old brown jug
And call him home-brewed ale.


The Wild Rover (No, Nay, Never)

I’ve been a wild rover for many a year
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
And now I’m returning with gold in great store
And I never will play the wild rover no more.

And it’s no, nay, never, [clap, clap, clap, clap]
No nay never no more,
Will I play the wild rover
No never no more.

I went to an ale-house I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent
I asked her for credit, she answered me “nay
Such a custom as yours I could have any day.”


I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright
And the landlady’s eyes opened wide with delight.
She said “I have whiskey and wines of the best
And the words that I spoke sure were only in jest.”


I’ll go home to my parents, confess what I’ve done
And I’ll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And if they caress (forgive) me as ofttimes before
Sure I never will play the wild rover no more.


The Old Rose and Crown
Ian Robb

Good friends gather 'round and I'll tell you a tale, 
It's a story well known to all lovers of ale, 
For the old English pub, once a mans' second home 
Has been decked out by brewers in plastic and chrome. 

Oh what has become of the old Rose and Crown 
The Ship, The King's Arm, and The World Upside Down? 
For oak, brass and leather and a pint of the best, 
Fade away like the sun as it sinks in the west. 

The old oaken bar with the taps bound in brass,
Gives way to Formica and tanks full of gas; 
And the landlord behind, once a man of good cheer, 
Will just mumble the price as he hands you a beer. 


And where are the friends who would meet for a jar, 
And a good game of darts, in the old public bar?
For the dartboard is gone; in its' place is a thing, 
Where you pull on the handle and lose all your tin. 


But the worst of it all's what they've done to the beer, 
For their shandies and lager will make you feel queer. 
For an arm and a leg they will fill up your glass 
With a half-and-half mixture of ullage and gas. 


So come all you good fellows that likes to sup ale; 
Let's hope for a happier end to my tale, 
For there's nothing can fill a man's heart with more cheer 
Than to sit in a pub, with a pint of good beer.


Molly Malone

In Dublin’s fair city, where girls are so pretty
‘Twas there that I first met sweet Molly Malone.
She wheeled her wheelbarrow
	through the streets broad and narrow
Crying “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o.”

Alive, alive-o
Alive, alive-o
Crying “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o”

She was a fishmonger, but sure ‘twas no wonder,
For so were her father and mother before,
And they each pushed their wheelbarrow
	through the streets broad and narrow
Crying “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o”


She died of a ‘faver’, and no one could save her,
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone,
Her ghost wheels her barrow
	through streets broad and narrow
Crying “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o”


Spanish Ladies

Farewell and adieu to you Spanish Ladies
Farewell and adieu, to you ladies of Spain
For we received orders to sail to old England 
But we hope in a short time to see you again.

We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British Sailors
We’ll rant and we’ll roar all on the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.

We hove our ship to with the wind from the sou’west boys
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take,
T’was 45 fathoms with light sandy bottom
So we squared our main yard and up channel did make.


The first land we sighted was cal-led the Dodman
Next Rams Head off Plymouth, off Portsmouth the Wight,
We sail-ed by Beachy, by Fairlight and Dover,
And then we bore up for the South Foreland Light.


Then the signal was sent for the grand ship to anchor 
And all in the downs that night for to lie,
Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper,
Haul up your clew garnets let tacks and sheets fly.


Let every man drink off his full bumper,
Let every man drink off his full glass,
We’ll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here’s to the health of each true-hearted lass.


Going Down the Valley

We are going down the valley one by one,
Now the icy dark of winter’s reign is done;
We are going down the valley of the spring
To a kinder land where gentle breezes sing.

We are going down the valley,
We are going down the valley,
We are going toward the rising of the sun.
We are going down the valley
We are going down the valley
We are going down the valley one by one.

We are going down the valley one by eon,
Dawn is breaking and the day has just begun;
We are free of all the terrors of the night,
And ahead of us the eastern sky is bright.


We are going down the valley one by one,
Where the waters of the streams of summer run,
Through the  meadows’ new green grasses running free
On their shining season’s journey to the sea.


We are going down the valley one by one,
Through the summer’s flowers wakened by the sun,
In the brightness of the coming of the day,
And the hope that goes beside us all the way.


Dark as a Dungeon

Come all you young fellers, so young and so fine,
And seek not your fortune in the dark, dreary mine.
It will form as a habit and seep in your soul,
'Til the blood of your veins runs black as the coal.
This song was originally posted on

Where it's dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where the dangers are many and the pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines,
It's dark as a dungeon way down in the mines.

It's many a man I have seen in my day,
Who lived just to labor his whole life away.
Like a fiend with his dope or a drunkard his wine,
A man must have lust for the lure of the mine.


I hope when I'm gone and the ages do roll,
My body will blacken and form into coal.
Then I'll look down from the door of my Heavenly home,
And pity the miner a diggin' my bones.
This song was originally posted on


The midnight, the morning, the breaking of the day,
Are the same to the miner who labors away.
Where the demons of death often come by surprise,
One slip of the slate and you're buried alive.


Fiddler's Green
(John Connolly 1966)

As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair
To view the still waters and take the salt air
I heard an old fisherman singing a song
Oh, take me away boys me time is not long

Wrap me up in me oilskin and Jumper
No more on the docks I'll be seen
Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip mates
And I'll see you someday on Fiddlers Green

Now I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
I'll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along
With the wind in the riggin to sing me a song


Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell
Where the fishermen go if they don't go to hell
Where the weather is all clear and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away


Now when you're in dock and the long trip is through
There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there too
And the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum growing on every tree


Where the skies are all clear and there's never a gale
And the fish jump on board with one swish on their tail
Where you lie at your leisure, there's no work to do
And the skipper's below making tea for the crew


Let Union Be In All Our Hearts

Come on lads and let’s be jolly
Drive away all melancholy,
For to grieve it would be folly
While we are together.

Let union be in all our hearts.
Let all our hearts be joined as one.
We’ll end the day as we’ve begun,
We’ll end it all in pleasure.
Right fa-la-ra-la-ry tu-ra-ly-do (3x)
While we are together.

Old King Solomon in all his glory
Told each wife a different story
Of the things that we delight in
While we are together.


Courting and dancing are quite charming,
Piping and drinking there’s no harm in.
All these things we take delight in
When we are together.


Come on lads and raise your glasses,
Catch the bottle as it passes;
Water drinkers are dull asses,
While we are together.


On Ilkla Moor Baht ‘At

Where hast thou been since I saw thee? (I saw thee)
On Ilkla Moor baht ‘at!
Where hast thou been since I saw thee? (repeat)
Where hast thou been since I saw thee? (repeat)
On Ilkla Moor baht ‘at, (baht ‘at)
On Ilkla Moor baht ‘at, (baht ‘at)
On Ilkla Moor baht ‘at!

I’ve been a-courtin’ Mary Jane, 
There wilt thou catch thy death of cold, …
Then we will come and bury thee, …
Then worms will come and eat thee up, …
Then ducks will come and eat up worms, …
Then we will come and eat up ducks, …
Then us will all have et up thee, …
That’s how we’ll get our owen back, …

Sae Will We Yet
Walter Watson/Tony Cuffe

Sit doon here my cronies, and gie us your crack
Let the wind tak’ the care o’ this life on its back
Oor hearts tae despondency we never will submit
For we’ve aye been provided for, and sae will we yet.

And sae will we yet, and sae will we yet
For we’ve aye been provided for,
And sae will we yet

So fill us a tankard o’ nappy brown ale
It’ll comfort our hearts and enliven the tale
For we’ll aye be the merrier the langer that we sit
For we drank thegither mony’s the time, …

… For we drank thegither mony’s the time, …

Here’s a health to the farmer, and propsper his plough
Rewarding his eident toils a’ the year through
For the seed-time and harvest we ever will get
For we’ve lippen’d aye tae Providence, …

… For we’ve lippen’d aye tae Providence, …

So fill up your glass, let the bottle gae roun’
For the sun it will rise, tho’ the moon hae gaen doon
And tho’ the room be rinnin roun’ aboot, it’s time enough tae flit
When we fell we aye got up again, …

… When we fell we aye got up again, …

crack = conversation
flit = leave
nappy = strong, foamy
eident = diligence
lippened = depended on, trusted
rinnin’ = spinning

Sailor's Prayer
Rod MacDonald

Though my sails be torn and tattered and the mast be turned about
Let the night wind chill me to my very soul 
Though the spray might sting my eyes and the stars no light provide
Give me just another morning light to hold

And I will not lie me down, this rain a-raging
I will not lie me down in such a storm
And if this night be unblessed,   I shall not take my rest
Until I reach another shore

Though the only water left is but salt to wound my thirst
I will drink the rain that falls so steady down
And though night's blindness be my gift, and there be thieves upon my drift
I will praise this fog that shelters me along.


Though my mates be drained and weary and believe their hopes are lost
There's no need for their bones on that blackened bottom
And though Death waits just off the bow, they shall not answer to him now
He shall stand to face the morning without us.


The Parting Glass

O, all the money that e’er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm that e’er I’ve done,
Alas, it was to none but me.
And all I’ve done for want of wit,
To mem’ry now I can’t recall.
So fill to me the parting glass;
Good night, and joy be with you all.

If I had money enough to spend
And leisure for to sit awhile,
There is a fair maid in this town
Who surely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosy cheeks, her ruby lips,
I own she has my heart enthralled.
So fill to me the parting glass;
Good night, and joy be with you all.

O, all the comrades that e’er I had,
Are sorry for my going away.
And all the sweethearts that e’er I had,
Would wish me one more day to stay.
But since it falls into my lot,
That I should rise and you should not,
I’ll gently rise and softly call,
“Goodnight, and joy be with you all.”