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The Fisher Who Died in His Bed

sheet music

Old Jim Jones the fisher, the trapper, the trawler,
Jim Jones the fish killin' banker is dead.
No fisherman surely never stepped in a dory
Like Jim Jones the fisher who died in his bed.

Was there any old fellow tied sods or made bobbers,
And set out his trawls in the dark it is said?
No fisherman ever braved such stormy weather
Like Jim Jones the trawler who died in his bed.

Jim Jones he would shorely go out in a dory,
And set out his traps all weighed down with lead,
No fisher from side on hauled traps with such tide on
As Jim Jones the trapper who died in his bed.

In the foggiest of weather he'd set out the leader,
But who in the devil this side of the Head
Could haul up such codfish or pick out the dogfish
Like old skipper Jones who died in his bed.

There was never such a salter this side of the water,
There never was such a glutton for eatin' cods' heads,
There never was a crackie who could chaw tobaccy
Like old skipper Jones who died in his bed.

Was there any old fisher or any old fellow
Cut throats or split fish or tear off the head?
For I'm darned if I ever saw one who'd pick liver
So fast as our skipper who died in his bed.

Is there any old fellow this side of the harbour
Sailed straight out the harbour or tacked round the Head?
It would make you all frantic to sail the Atlantic
With old skipper Jones who died in his bed.

His fishing days ended, his traps are unmended,
His trawls are all rotten, his fishing boat sunk,
And his days as a rover are finished and over,
Old skipper Jim Jones who died in his bunk.

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