They say that an old salt who is tired of seagoing should walk inland with an oar over his shoulder. When he comes to a pretty little village deep in the country and the people ask him what he is carrying...he will know that he's found Fiddlers Green. The people give him a seat in the sun outside the Village Inn with a glass of grog that refills itself every time he drains the last drop and a pipe forever smoking with fragrant tobacco. From then onwards he has nothing to do but enjoy his glass and pipe and watch the maidens dancing to the music of a fiddle on Fiddlers Green.

an Old English Legend

Chorus
"Wrap me up in my oil skin and blanket,
No more 'round the docks, I'll be seen,
Just tell me olde shipmates,
I'm takin a trip mates,
and I'll see ya some day in Fiddler's Green"