Blow the Man Down

As I was going down Paradise Street (timme)

     Way hey, blow the man down,

A big Irish copper I happened to meet,

     Give me some time to blow the man down.

Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down,

Blow him right back to Liverpool town.

He said you’re a Blackballer by the cut of your hair,

You’re a Blackballer by the clothes that you wear.

I said to the cop, ‘Look, you got me all wrong,

I’m a flying-fish sailor, home from Hong Kong.’

‘No, you’ve signed on some packet that flies the Blackball,

You’ve robbed some poor sailor, boots, clothes and all.’

He said to me, ‘Mate, look, you’re breaking the law’,

So I smashed in his face and I stoved in his jaw.

Well, they gave me six months in Liverpool town

For beating and kicking and blowing him down.

A Liverpool ship and a Liverpool crew,

A Liverpool mate and a Scouse skipper too.