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

Wrap me up in my oil skins and jumper
No more on the docks I'll be seen
Just tell my old shipmates I'm taking a trip mates
And I'll see you someday in Fiddler's Green

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

When you land on the dock and the long trip is through
There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lasses there too
Where the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum growing from every tree

Now, I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
And I'll play my old squeezebox as we sail along
With the wind in our rigging to sing me this song