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Pub Songs aren't just songs about drinking. For host Marc Gunn, The Celtfather, these are fun songs you can sing-along and enjoy. Some are Irish. Some are Scottish. Others are smash hits at science fiction conventions. Pub Songs Podcast highlights the music of Marc Gunn and the music he loves, while occasionally commenting on Celtic and Geek topics. You'll enjoy this music over a pint at your local pub or while hanging out in your local game store. It's a show to make you smile.

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Oct 31, 2006

I had the pleasure of interviewing a pirate named Captain Black Jack Murphy as we started working on a CD together with Murphy on vocals and me on autoharp.

Songs:

Notes:

  • Setting the Record Straight About Pirates
  • Live From A Pub CD
  • The Captain's Red Shirt
  • Business Seminar for Individuals Seeking Advancement in Privateering
  • Intro music by The Tea Merchants

Bonnie Ship the Diamond
words and music traditional

The Diamond is a ship, my lads
For the Davis Strait we're bound
The quay it is all garnished
With bonnie lasses 'round
Captain Thompson gives the order
To sail the ocean wide
Where the sun it never sets, my lads
Nor darkness dims the sky

For it's cheer up my lads
Let your hearts never fail
For the bonnie ship the Diamond
Goes a-hunting for the whale

Along the quay at Peterhead
The lasses stand aroon
Wi' their shawls all pulled around them
And the saut tears runnin' doon
Don't you weep, my bonnie wee lass
Though you be left behind
For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice
Before we change our mind

Here's a health to the Resolution
Likewise the Eliza Swan
Three cheers for the Battler of Montrose
And the Diamond, ship of fame
We wear the trousers o' the white
The jackets o' the blue
When we get back to Peterhead
We'll hae sweethearts enou'

It will be bright both day and night
When the Greenland lads come hame
Our ship full up with oil, my lads
And money to our name
We'll make the cradles for to rock
And the blankets for to tear
And every lass in Peterhead sing
"Hushabye, my dear"

The Mermaid
words and music traditional, additional lyrics Marc Gunn

Twas Friday morn when we set sail
And we were not far from the land
When the captain, he spied a lovely mermaid
With a comb and a glass in her hand

O the ocean's waves will roll
And the stormy winds will blow
While we poor sailors go skipping to the top
And the landlubbers lie down below (below, below)
And the landlubbers lie down below

Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,
And a brave old man was he,
He said, "This fishy mermaid has warned me of our doom:
We shall sink to the bottom of the sea!" chorus

And up spoke the mate of our gallant ship
And a well-spoken man was he
I have me a wife in Salem by the sea
And tonight she a widow will be

And up spoke the cookie of our gallant ship
And a red hot cookie was he
Saying I care much more for my pots and my pans
Than I do for the bottom of the sea

Then up spoke the cabinboy, of our gallant ship
And a nasty little lad was he.
I'm not quite sure I can spell "mermaid"
But I'm going to the bottom of the sea.

Then up spoke the cannibal who snuck aboard our ship
And a hungry mad invader was he
You can drown right now beneath the cold ocean waves
Or you can be dinner for three, your choice

Then up spoke the parrot of our gallant ship
And a smartarse parrot was she
Brawk, you're going to drown, your going to drown, Brawk
And flew to the shore for her safety

Then three times around went our gallant ship
And three times around went she
Three times around went our gallant ship
And she sank to the bottom of the sea

Isn't It Grand, Boys?
words and music traditional

Look at the coffin with golden handles
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Let's not have a sniffle,
Let's have a bloody good cry
And always remember the longer you live,
The sooner you'll bloody well die

Look at the preacher, bloody sanctimonious
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the choir boys, bloody castrati
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the widow, bloody great female
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the mourners, bloody great hippocrites
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the flowers, all bloody wilted
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the tombstone, bloody great boulder
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the whiskey, in buckets and bottles
Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead?