Live in 3D

  1. Haul Away Joe
  2. The Gallows
  3. Whiskey in the Jar
  4. Strike the Bell
  5. Mrs. Durkin
  6. Big Strong Man
  7. Johnny Jump Up
  8. John Kanakanaka
  9. Some Kind of Ride
  10. A Week Before Easter
  11. Lannigan's Ball
  12. Finnegan's Wake

Haul Away joe

When I was a little boy or so my mother told me, tell me (tammy)
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe
If I didn’t kiss the girls my lips would all grow moldy, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

Weigh haul away we’re the good ship now is rolling, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe.

First I loved a Yankee (English, Scottish, Martian) girl, she was fat and lazy, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe
Then I met an Irish girl, she damn near drove me crazy, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

Weigh haul away, we’re bound for better weather, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

Now once I loved a lass, and she was very pretty, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe
I also loved a couple more, they lived in different cities, tell me
weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

Weigh haul away, the good ship now is rolling, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

Louie was the king of France before the revolution
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe
Then he got his head chopped off, it spoiled his constitution
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

Weigh haul away, we’re bound for better weather, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

St. Patrick was a decent man, he came from decent people, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe
He built a church in Dublin town and on it put a steeple, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe

Weigh haul away, the good ship now is rolling, tell me
Weigh haul away, we’ll haul away Joe


The Gallows
(by Westan James)

It stands alone against the sky,
where sea-winds blow and sea-birds fly
A darkened and foreboding tree,
bet your purse it waits for me

The gallows wait - against the sky
The gallows wait – where sea-birds fly
The gallows wait – foreboding tree
The gallows wait – it waits for me

Cold, alone, sway with the wind;
pray it’s not for you my friend
And tho’ ‘tis true that I have sinned,
this was not meant to be my end

The gallows wait - with the wind
The gallows wait – for you my friend
The gallows wait – for I have sinned
The gallows wait – to be my end

But I will not abandon hope
To yet avoid that sturdy rope
While you dance outside my cell
And think that I will go to hell

The gallows wait – abandon hope
The gallows wait – a sturdy rope
The gallows wait – outside my cell
The gallows wait – I’ll go to hell

Upon these walls a true confession
Thieving ‘twas my last profession
I did not take her ring in flight
I stole away his wedding night,
Just make it clear that’s why I died
Then wipe the tears all from her eyes
I stretched before I e’re was tried
My life was purchased with his lies

The gallows wait
The gallows wait
The gallows wait
The gallows wait.


Whiskey In The Jar

As I was going over the far-famed Kerry mountains,
I met with Captain Farrel and his money he was countin’
I first produced my pistol, and then produced my rapier
Saying stand and deliver for you are my bold deceiver

Mush-la ringem-durahm-die
Wack for the darrio, wack for the darrio
There’s whiskey in the jar

Well I counted out my money, and it made a pretty penny,
I put it in my pocket and I gave it to my Jenny
She sighed and she swore, that she never would betray me
But devil take the women for they never can go easy


I went into my chamber all for to take a slumber,
I dreamt of gold and jewels and sure it was no wonder
That Jenny took my charges and she filled them up with water
Then sent for Captain Farrel to make ready for the slaughter


T’was early in the morning, before I rose to travel
The guards were all around me, and like-wise Captain Farrel
I first produced my pistol for she stole away my rapier
But I could shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken


Well if anyone can aid me, it’s my brother in the army
I think that he is stationed in Clark or in Kellarny
And if he’d come and join me we’d go roving in Killkenny
I swear he’d treat me fairer than me darling sporting Jenny


Some take delight in hurling, and others in the bowling
Still others take delight in the carriages a-rolling
But I take delight in the juice of the barley
And kissing pretty women when the sun is rising early



Strike the Bell

Out on the quarter deck, and walking about
There’s the second mate so steady and so stout
What he is thinking of he doesn’t know himself
We wish that he would hurry up and strike, strike the bell

Strike the bell second mate, let us go below
Look ye well to windward, you can see its going to blow
Look at the glass; you can see that it has fell
We wish that you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell!

Down on the main deck and working on the pumps
There’s the starboard watch just longing for their bunks
They look out to windward and see a great swell
We wish that you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell


Aft at the wheel, our poor helmsman stands
Grasping at the spokes with his cold-fingered hands
He looks at the compass, the course is clear as hell
We wish that you would hurry up and strike, strike the bell


Out on the poop deck our gallant captain stands
Gazing out to sea with his spy-glass in his hands
What he is thinking of, he know pretty well
He’s thinking more of striking sail than striking the bell

-chorus- twice-


Mrs. Durkin

In the days I went a-courtin’ I was never tired resortin’
To the alehouse and the playhouse and the other house besides
So I told me brother Seamus, I’d go off now and be famous
And before I returned home again, I’d roam the whole world wide.

So it’s good-bye Mrs. Durkin, I’m sick and tired of workin’
No more I’ll dig the pratties no longer I’ll be poor
As sure as my name is Barney – I’m off to Californ-ee
Where instead of digging pratties, I’ll be diggin’ lumps of gold.

Well, I’ve dated girls in Clarney, in Kintark, and in Killarney
In PassageeEnd, in Queen’s town, that is in the cobh(cove) of Cork
But I’m tired of all this pleasure so I’ll go off and seek me leisure
And the next time that you hear from me I’ll write you from New York


When I landed in Americ-ay I met a man named Burke
He said if I would stay awhile, he’d surely find me work
But work he didn’t find me, there’s nothing’ here to bind me
So I’m bound for San Francisco down in Californ-i-ay


La la la

When I land in San Francisco and me fortune it is made
Me pockets loaded down with gold, I’ll throw away me spade
I’ll go back to dear ol’ Erin spend me fortune never carin’
And I’ll marry Queen Victor-ee Mrs. Durkin for to spite



Big Strong Man

Have you heard about the big strong man, he lives in a caravan
Have you heard about the Jeffry-Johnson plight, lord what a helluva fight
You can take all the heavyweights you got, got a lad to invade the whole lot
He used to work here as a doorman, now he’s off to fight George Forman

He was my brother, Sylvest (what’s he got?!)
Row of forty medals on his chest (big chest!)
He killed fifty Burmen in the west, he knows no rest
Bigger the man
Hell’s fire
Don’t push
Don’t shove
Plenty of room for you and me

He’s got an arm like a leg (lady’s leg)
And a punch that would sink a battle-ship (big ship)
It takes all the navy in the west, to knock the wind from Sylvest (take the bra off Mae West)

He thought he’d take a trip to Italy, and thought that he’d go by sea
He jumped off the harbor in New York (boing). And he swam like a man from Cork
He saw the Lusitania in distress (What’d he do?) He stuck the Lusitania up his dress, (ew)
Then he drank all the water in the sea, (bloop), and he walked all the way to Italy


He thought he’d take a trip to old Japan, and he thought he’d take a big brass band
He played all the instruments they got (honk), oh Lord, he played the whole lot
Now the church bell will ring (ding dong) and the church choir will sing (wow)
Then everyone will give their best, to the big strong man Sylvest



Johnny Jump Up
(Traditional) (Wylde Nept version)

I’ll tell you a story that happened to me, one day as I went down to Yule-by-the-Sea
The day it was bright and the sun it was warm, says I a wee pint would do me no harm
I stepped in and I asked for a bottle of stout,
says the barman to me – “All the beer is sold out!
Try whiskey try paddy ten years in the wood”,
says I, “I’ll try cider, I’ve heard that its good.”

Oh never oh never oh never again, if I live to be a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn’t get up, after drinking a quart of that Johnny-jump-up

After drinking a third I went back to the yard,
where I bumped into Brophy the big civic guard,
“Come here to me boy, don’t you know I’m the law?”
I upped with me fist and I shattered his jaw
He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up
But it wasn’t that I hit him – be that Johnny Jump Up
And the next thing I saw down on Yule-by-the-Lee
Was an old man on crutches and he says to me
“I fear for me life I’ll be hit by a car,
Won’t you help me across to the railwayman’s bar
After drink a sip of that cider so sweet
He threw down his crutches and danced in the street!


I went down the lee road a friend for to see
At a place called the mad-house in Cork-on-the-Lee
And when I got there if the truth I should tell
They had the poor bugger locked up in a cell
Said the guards testing him, say the words if you can
Around the rugged rock, the ragged rascal ran
Tell them I’m not crazy, tell them I’m not mad!
It was only a drop of the creature I had!


A man died in the Union by the name of McNab
And they washed him and they laid him outside on a slab
And after O’Connor his measurements did take
His wife took him home for a bloody fine wake!
Well about twelve O’clock and the beer it was high
And the corpse he sits up and he says with a sigh
I can’t get to heaven, they won’t let me up
Tell I bring Him a quart of that Johnny Jump Up!

-chorus twice-


John Kanakanaka

I thought I heard the old man say (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Today, today is a holiday (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Too ri ay, oh too ri ay, John Kanakanaka too ri ay

There’s work tomorrow but no work today (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
For today, today is a holiday (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Too ri ay, oh too ri ay, John Kanakanaka too ri ay

Growl you may but go you must (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
If you growl too loud your head they’ll bust (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Today, today is a holiday
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Too ri ay, oh too ri ay, John Kanakanaka too ri ay

Around Cape Horn our ship must go (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Around Cape Horn through the ice and snow (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Today, today is a holiday
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Too ri ay, oh too ri ay, John Kanakanaka too ri ay

My dear old mum she wrote to me (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Oh son, my son come home from sea (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Today, today is a holiday
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Too ri ay, oh too ri ay, John Kanakanaka too ri ay

Now one more pull and then belay (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
For today, today is a holiday (pull)
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Today, today is a holiday
John Kanakanaka too ri ay
Too ri ay, oh too ri ay, John Kanakanaka too ri ay


Some Kinda Ride
(by Wylde Nept – melodies by David Miller)



The Week Before Easter

The week before Easter, on a morn bright and clear
Oh the sun it shone brightly, and clean blew the air
I went to the forest to gather wildflowers,
but the forest would yield me no roses

Oh the roses are red and the leaves they are green
Oh the bushes and briars are a joy to be seen
And the small birds are singing and changing their notes
Down among the wild beasts in the forest

The first time I saw my love, she was dressed all in white
Made my eyes run and water, fair dazzled my sight
But now she has left me and shown me false play
For she’s gone to be wed to another

The last time I saw my love, she did in the church stand
With a ring on her finger and a glove in her hand
And I thought to myself that I should have been that man
But she’s left me and gone with some other

The parson that married them, aloud he did cry
All those that forbid it, I would have you stand nigh
And I thought to myself I’ve a good reason why
But I had not the heart to forbid it

Oh dig me my grave, dig it long wide and deep
And cover it over with flowers so sweet
And I lay me down for to take a long sleep
For that’s the best way to forget her


Lannigan’s Ball

In the town of Athy one Jeremy Lannigan
battered away till he hadn’t a pound
His father he died and made him a man again,
left him a farm and ten acres of ground
He gave a grand party for friends and relations
who did not forget when it came to the wall
And if you’ll but listen I’ll make your eyes glisten
to the rows and the ructions at Lannigan’s ball.

Six long weeks I spent in Dublin, six long weeks fer nothing at all
Six long weeks I spent in Dublin, learnin’ a step fer Lannigan’s Ball
I stepped out, I stepped back in again,
I stepped in, I stepped back out again
I stepped out, I stepped back in again
Learnin’ a dance fer Lannigan’s ball

Well meself to be sure got a free invitation
for all the nice boys and girls that I’d ask
in less than a minute the friends and relations
were dancing as merry as bees ‘round a cask
Judy O’Daley the nice milliner
tipped me a wink for to give her a call
Soon I arrived with Jim O’Glanigan
just in time for Lannigan’s ball.


There were lashes o’punch and wine for the ladies
Potatoes and cakes there was bacon and tea
Nolans and Dolans O’Gradys and Finnegans
Courting the girls and dancin’ away
Songs went round as plenty as water
“The Harp That Once Sounded Through Tara’s Old Hall”
“Sweet Nelly Grey” and “The Rat Catcher’s Daughter”
All singing together at Lannigan’s Ball


They were doing all kinds of nonsensical polkas
All dancing around in a great whirligig
Julia and I soon banished their nonsense
And tipped off a twist of a real Irish jig
Och Mav-rone the girls all got mad at me
Danced till you’d think that the ceiling would fall
For I spent six weeks at Burk’s academy
Learning a step for Lannigan’s ball


The boys were all merry, the girls were all hearty
All dancing away in couples and groups
Till an accident happened, young Terrance McCarthy
Put his right leg through Ms. Cromarty’s hoops
The poor girl she fainted, cryin’ Mellia Murther
Called for her brothers and gathered them all
Cromarty swore that he’d go no further
Till he got satisfaction at Lannigan’s Ball


In the midst of the row Miss Kerrigan fainted
Her cheeks all the while being red as a rose
Some of the ladies declared she was painted
She took a small drop too much I suppose
Her sweetheart Ned Morgan so powerful and able
When he saw his fair colleen stretched out by the wall
Tore the left leg from under the table
And smashed all the dishes at Lannigan’s ball.


Oh boys, oh boys then there was a ruction
Me’self got a lick from big Phalen MacHue
Soon I replied to his kind introduction
And kicked up a terrible hullabaloo
Casey the piper was near being strangled
They choked up his pipes, bellows, chanters and all
The girls in their ribbons they all got entangled
And that put an end to Lannigan’s ball.

I stepped in, I stepped back out again
I stepped out, I stepped back in again
I stepped in, I stepped back out again
Learnin’ to dance fer Lannigan’s ball.

Learnin’ to dance! learnin’ to dance! learnin’ to dance!
At Lannigan’s ball.


Finnegan’s Wake

Tim Finnegan lived on Walkin Street
A gentle Irishman, mighty odd
He’s a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet, (me, me me)
And to rise in the world, he carried a hod.
You see he’d a sort of a tippling way,
With a love of liquor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day,
He’d a drop o’the crath’ur ev’ry morn!

Whack for the hurrah take your partner,
‘round the floor you trotters shake
wasn’t it the truth I told ya,
lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

One morning Tim felt rather full,
His head felt heavy which made him shake, (woof)
He fell off the ladder and broke his skull (smack-ow)
So they carried him home a corpse to wake.
They wrapped him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head!


His friends assembled at the wake (Well, come on in)
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch (Lunchtiiiime!!!!)
First they laid out tay and cake (yummy! or bacon!)
Then pipes and tobacco and whiskey-punch!
Then Biddy O’Brien began to cry
Such a lovely corpse did you ever see?
Arrah – Tim-a-vourneen why did ya die?
Ah none o’yer gab says Biddy McGee!


Then Peggy O’Conner took up the job
Arrah Biddy says she you’re wrong I’m sure (ehhh)
Then Biddy gave her a belt on the gob (ow, my gob!)
That left her sprawlin’ on the floor
Each side in war was soon engaged
T’was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began!


Then Mickey Maloney raised up his head (huh?)
When a gallon of whiskey flew at him (whisht- Lookout!)
It missed and landed on the bed (oh –censored-!)
And the whiskey scattered all over Tim
Be’dad he revives see how he rises,
Tim Finnegan jumping from the bed
Crying while he ran around like blazes
Thunderin’ Jaysus you think I’m dead!?

-chorus twice-


The rights for all original lyrics and mistranslations are held by Wylde Nept.
©2006, Wylde Nept; All rights reserved

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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries had its humble beginnings as an idea of a few artisans and craftsmen who enjoy performing with live steel fighting. As well as a patchwork quilt tent canvas. Most had prior military experience hence the name.


Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries.


Vendertainers that brought many things to a show and are know for helping out where ever they can.

As well as being a place where the older hand made items could be found made by them and enjoyed by all.

We expanded over the years to become well known at what we do. Now we represent over 100 artisans and craftsman that are well known in their venues and some just starting out. Some of their works have been premiered in TV, stage and movies on a regular basis.

Specializing in Medieval, Goth , Stage Film, BDFSM and Practitioner.

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries a Dept of, Ask For IT was started by artists and former military veterans, and sword fighters, representing over 100 artisans, one who made his living traveling from fair to festival vending medieval wares. The majority of his customers are re-enactors, SCAdians and the like, looking to build their kit with period clothing, feast gear, adornments, etc.

Likewise, it is typical for these history-lovers to peruse the tent (aka mobile store front) and, upon finding something that pleases the eye, ask "Is this period?"

A deceitful query!! This is not a yes or no question. One must have a damn good understanding of European history (at least) from the fall of Rome to the mid-1600's to properly answer. Taking into account, also, the culture in which the querent is dressed is vitally important. You see, though it may be well within medieval period, it would be strange to see a Viking wearing a Caftan...or is it?

After a festival's time of answering weighty questions such as these, I'd sleep like a log! Only a mad man could possibly remember the place and time for each piece of kitchen ware, weaponry, cloth, and chain within a span of 1,000 years!! Surely there must be an easier way, a place where he could post all this knowledge...

Traveling Within The World is meant to be such a place. A place for all of these artists to keep in touch and directly interact with their fellow geeks and re-enactment hobbyists, their clientele.

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