Home Dearie Home

The Sailor's Adieu

Peggy Seeger gathered these verses together from the old "sailor/bar maid" tradition that gave us "Hame Dearie Hame";

    It's hame, dearie, hame, and it's hame that I maun be;
    Sae fain's I would be back To my ain countrie,
    Where the oak and the ash, and the bonnie elm tree,
    They are a' growin' green in my ain countrie.


    And it's home, dearie, home, it's home I want to be
    My topsails are hoisted and I am out to sea
    The oak and the ash and the bonnie birchen tree
    Are all a-growing green in the North country.

"Rosemary Lane", "Roseberry Lane", "Rasberry Lane";

    "Here's a health to the sailors that sail on the sea
    Don't wed a foreign lady, but keep yourself free
    With your sky blue jacket and your tarpaulin on
    Sail the salt seas as I have often done"

and "Bell Bottom Trousers" (as recorded by Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians, 1945)

    Singing bell bottom trousers, Coat of navy-blue.
    Let him climb the rigging like his daddy used to do.

The sailor being weary, he hung down his head,
Called for a candle to light him to bed
She lit him to bed as a maiden ought to do
He vowed and declared she should come to him too.

And it's home, dearie, home, and it's home you ought to be
Home once again in your own country
Where the oak and the ash and the fine willow tree
Are all a-growing greener in the North Amerikee.

She jumped in beside him to keep herself warm
Thinking, now, a sailor couldn't do her any harm.
He hugged her and he kissed and he called her his dear
Till she wished the short night had been as long as a year.

And it's home . . .

Early next morning the sailor arose
Into her apron he put hands full of gold
Saying, 'Take this, my dear, it will pay for milk and bread,
It may pay for the lighting of a sailor to bed.'

And it's home . . .

If I have a baby, what am I the worse?
I've gold in my pocket, I've silver in my purse,
I'll buy me a nurse and I'll pay the nurse's fee
And I'll pass for a maiden in my own country.

And it's home . . .

If it be a girl, she can wear a gold ring
If it be a boy, he can fight for the king
With his little quartered shoes and the roundabout so blue
He can walk the quarterdeck the way his daddy used to do.

And it's home . . .

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