C AmWalking through long wet grassDm GSwinging my old windlassC Am F GI trudge from lock to lock, rarely on boardC AmStepping through muddy poolsDm G Why am I such a fool?C Am G CA love of canals should bring more rewardC Am Dm GRaise up the paddle and push on the balance beamC Am F GCold in the pouring rain, Open that gateC Am Dm GThen trudge round t’other side, Why is it just too wideC Am G CDon’t drop the windlass, Whoops, it’s too late!He’s steers a narrowboatWhy’s that so difficult?Eating and drinking while floating along,Slowing to say hello Listening to Status QuoSwearing at fishermen, all the day longCall this a holiday? All I see’s work not playCooking and cleaning’s no labour of loveThen when the locks appear Open those lock gates, dear!Cries from the captain to give one more shoveHands slip on balance beamI let out such a screamTurn black and blue with each full bloodied bruiseWhile down in the lock belowHe sips a red BordeauxSenses KO’d by a skinful of boozeThen when the boating’s doneHe thinks it’s time for funBatteries charged from sitting all dayHe grins like a Cheshire catUntil he’s turned down flatThe captain deflates like a cooling soufflé
Call this a Holiday?
I think this was the first canal song I wrote. The lines 'walking through long wet grass, swinging my old windlass' came about as I did just that on the Staffs and Worcs Canal near Gailey. Unlike a seemingly high proportion of male boaters, I do actually operate locks, where I meet a seemingly high proportion of women doing the same. As they often do all the household (boat) chores and the cooking, I wondered just how much of a holiday it was for them. The song is written from that female perspective.