Fiddlers Green taby ukulele według Dubliners (Chwyty barytonu)

C             F            C          Am
   As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair,
         C            F          C             G
    to view the salt waters and take the salt air,
         F                      C
    I heard an old fisherman singing a song,
                  G            C            G
    'Oh take me away boys, me time is not long'.

CHORUS
        C          G           C
Wrap me up in me oilskins and jumpers,
    F           C             G
no more on the docks I'll be seen.
      F                           C
Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip, mates,
     G                        G7         C
and I'll see you some day on Fiddler's Green.

        C          F          C               Am
   Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell,
               C         F          C           G
   where the fishermen go if they don't go to hell.
                F                            C
    Where the skies are all clear and the dolphins do play,
                             G              C    G
    and the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away.
  
CHORUS
                C            F                 C      Am
   Where the skies are all clear and there's never a gale,
             C            F              C              G
    and the fish jump on board with one swish of their tail.
               F                           C
    Where you lie at your leisure, there's no work to do,
                         G          C            G
    and the skipper's below making tea for the crew.
  
CHORUS
             C           F              C             Am 
   When you get back on docks and the long trip is through,
           C                   F                 C              G
    there's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there, too.
               F                             C
    Where the girls are all pretty and the beer it is free,
                            G           C          G
    and there's bottles of rum growing from every tree.
  
CHORUS
           C            F          C         Am 
    Now I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me,
         C            F          C           G
    just give me a breeze on a good rolling sea.
         F                          C
    I'll play me old squeezebox as we sail along,
                        G            C         G
    with the wind in the rigging to sing me a song.  

CHORUS