By the windy shores o Canada bay I broke my fast for Lucia's day
A beguiling figure she blew my way and rattled me rovin' heart
The snipers crack, the metronome of pricy heels on polished stone
That I were soon to call my own by way o' the ancient art
I were cozened by a whiff-o-the-whim that scours the Costa harryin'
The likes o' men who've lost the lamp, the rudderless and bewildered
The sands below are littered wi' bones o' those who've taken a belly o' stones
And turned their backs on wives and homes to follow the black Matilda
Ho-ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts and hope to die
If e'er ye're drawn beneath a murky fathom of her eye
Ho-ro my lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
Ye'll never again be able to lift yer head so bloody high
For even the boys of Inverary know, from Tortuga to Jericho
She took three hundred souls below off the deck o' the Andalusia
The poets and the Sages tried to warn us down the ages
Their blood drips from the pages where they tell o' the Black Matilda
She pursed her lips and spun a tune as fine as any silk cocoon
That's ever left McEacherns loom & held me there in a tawper
A bastard I was born y'ken? I lived as tho' I'd never end
I'll die a disenchanted man, they'll bury me as a pauper
For men have drowned and men have swung, the brig at Iron Cove were hung
Wi' a garland of the old, the young, all battered & unfamiliar
there's no poetry there's no tune, no point in howlin' at the Moon
A caution to ye very soon ye'll waltz yer Black Matilda
Ho-ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts and hope to die
If e'er ye're drawn beneath a murky fathom of her eye
Ho-ro my lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
Ye'll never again be able to lift yer head so bloody high
For even the boys of Inverary know, from Tortuga to Jericho
She took three hundred souls below off the deck o' the Andalusia
The poets and the Sages tried to warn us down the ages
Their blood drips from the pages where they tell o' the Black Matilda
By the windy shores O' Canada bay I blew my friggin brains away
Its not as tho' I'm proud to say, its not as tho I coulda killed her
I'm off to Hells begotten shores where men like me have sailed before
And they shall sail forever more in the name o' the Black Matilda
Ho-Ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts & hope to die
Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry!
Ho-Ro m'lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye die!
Ho-Ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts & hope to die
Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry!
Ho-Ro m'lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye die!
