In my green heaven there's a place
Shinin' like a lover's face
Where no one does you any harm
But keep the baby safe and warm

It's not my crazy fantasy
But part of my reality

And if I could have my way
This night will never be a day
Tonight we go to Fiddler's Green
The fairest place I've ever seen

On cloud nine we have a ball
Tonight we're gonna have it all
We wet our whistles all night long
And sing this crazy rotten song

Wet wallet.....been in New Orleans???

BEAR

King, Did Waksupi get the Fiddlers Green you wanted or is this it?

FIDDLER'S GREEN
(John Connelly)

As I roved by the dockside on evening so rare
To view the still waters and take the salt air
I heard an old fisherman singing this song
O take me away boys my time is not long

     Dress me up in me oilskin and jumper
     No more on the docks I'll be seen
     Just tell me old shipmates
     I'm taking a trip, mates
     And  I'll see them someday in Fiddler's Green

Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell
Where fishermen go when they don't go to Hell
Where the weather is fair and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away

The sky's always clear and there's never a gale
And the fish jump on board with a flip of their tail
You can lie at your leisure, there's no work to do
And the skipper's below making tea for the crew

And when you're in dock and the long trip is thru
There's pubs and there's clubs, and there's lassies there too
Now the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum hanging from every tree

I don't want a harp or a halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
And I'll play me old squeeze box as we sail along
When the wind's in the rigging to sing me this song

Copyright 1970 for the World, March Music Ltd.

Kingpin.......saved from an earlier post

FIDDLER’S GREEN

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.

Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.

Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.

And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.