The Black Matilda

(album: Gangs Of New Holland - 2010)

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 roving 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 harrying
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 and 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 and unfamiliar
Theres no poetry theres no tune, no point in howling 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
It's not as tho' I'm proud to say, it's 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 and hope to die
It's enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry!
Ho-ro m'lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
It's enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry!

Ho-ro m'lovelies cross yer hearts and hope to die
It's enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry!
Ho-ro m'lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye
It's 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!