Dave Taylor - Weary Old Folk Tune Lyrics

I am a weary old folk tune, it's ofttimes you've heard me played
Like when orders came one afternoon that we were to march away
From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay from Galway to Dublin Town
To the Lowlands of Holland I've well and truly done the rounds

Like when I told of three gallant poachers one March evening a plan they made
With trap and snare and with finger in their ear, by the gamekeepers were waylaid
For the singing of folk songs out of season straightway they were condemned
To fourteen years transportay-she-aye-on unto Van Diemen's Land

Well as the ship it sped, we shook-ed our eds , and gay-zed with a feeling rare
Upon a ship that go-ed in the other direction saying "who are that rabble over there
I said, says I "That's the Lancashire Lads, saying whatever shall we do
Then before you could say
"To me wack fol diddle eye day" they'd nicked the bloody tune

By now I totally confus-ed was to whom I did belong
This melody to let, no lyrics yet, who'd be an old folk song
An identity crisis for seven long years
And only after intensive counselling they set me free
Only to be 'ad by Martin Carthy, three times on one CD

Well I've been 'ad by half the regiment, given pleasure all around the fleet
Abus-ed by all and sundry-aye-ay from me nut brown hair to me snow white feet
I've been ad by the aristocracy, and by the rank and file
It's time I was laid in the unquiet grave, like Lazarus to rise again