> A.L. Lloyd > Songs > Paddy Doyle
> Peter Bellamy > Songs > Paddy Doyle’s Boots

Paddy Doyle(’s Boots)

[ Roud 4695 ; Henry H53c ; Ballad Index Doe010 ; DT PADDOYLE ; Mudcat 135246 ; trad.]

Ewan MacColl and A.L. Lloyd sang the bunting shanty Paddy Doyle in 1954/5 on their and Harry H. Corbett’s album The Singing Sailor. This track has been reissued lots of times, e.g. on their albums Row Bullies Row, Singing Sailors (Wattle Records), Off to Sea Once More (Stinson Records), and on the compilation CD Sailors’ Songs & Sea Shanties. Lloyd commented in the Off to Sea Once More sleeve notes:

This is one of the few shanties reserved for bunting the fore or mainsail. Men aloft, furling the sail, would bunch the canvas in their hands till it formed a long bundle, the ‘bunt’. To lift the bunt on to the yard, in order to lash it into position, required a strong heave. Bunt shanties differ from others in that they employed fewer voices, and were sung in chorus throughout. Paddy Doyle, the villain of this shanty, was a Liverpool boarding house keeper.

They also recorded it in 1957 for their Tradition Records album Blow Boys Blow where A.L. Lloyd commented:

Paddy Doyle was a Liverpool-Irish boarding master, sometimes confused with Paddy West (see Band 6, Side B on this record). The shanty is an unusual one in that it is generally sung by two men and not by a gang. It is a ‘bunt’ shanty, designed to accompany the operation of bunting up a sail. The men stand aloft on foot-ropes and, leaning over the yard, the grab the bunched-up sail and try to heave the ‘sausage’ of canvas on to the yard, preparatory to lashing it in a furled position. The big heave usually comes on the last word of the verse, sometimes being sung as ‘Pay Paddy Doyle his hup!’ But if the canvas was wet and heavy, and several attempts were going to be needed before the sail was bunted, the song might be sung as here.

Paul Clayton sang Paddy Doyle’s Boots in 1956 on his Tradition album Whaling and Sailing Songs From the Days of Moby Dick. He noted:

This short-drag shanty was always used to bunt up a sail in furling, and was sung in chorus throughout the last syllable, when, with a great effort, all hands lifted the heavy roll of canvas to, get in on top of the yard. Usually only one stanza was required, but there were more traditional stanzas, and I sing a number of them here. Coleord says that Paddy Doyle was a famous boarding-master in Liverpool and that the shanty doubtless related to the superstition that it was bad luck to leave port with bills unpaid. Doerflinger, in Shantymen and Shantyboys, gives a different interpretation: the sailor has been supplied with boots of low quality by the boarding-master, and the song intimates that the singer is paying dearly for his leaky sea boots.

Peter Bellamy sang Paddy Doyle’s Boots and Blood Red Roses in a 1964 private recording that was included in 1999 on his Free Reed anthology Wake the Vaulted Echoes. The Young Tradition also sang it on 17 November 1968 at their concert at Oberlin College, Ohio. It was published in 2013 on their Fledg’ling CD Oberlin 1968.

Danny Spooner sang Paddy Doyle’s Boots on his 1988 album We’ll Either Bend or Break ’Er.

Lyrics

Ewan MacColl and A.L. Lloyd sing Paddy Doyle

To me way ay, ay-ay, yah!
We’ll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots.

To me way ay, ay-ay, yah!
We’ll all drink whisky and gin.

To me way ay, ay-ay, yah!
We’ll all shave under the chin.

Peter Bellamy sings Paddy Doyle’s Boots

To me way ay, ay-ay,
We’ll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots.

To me way ay, ay-ay,
And we will drink whisky and gin.

To me way ay, ay-ay,
And we will shave under the chin.

To me way ay, ay-ay,
And we will throw muck at the cook.

To me way ay, ay-ay,
For the crusty old man on the poop.

To me way ay, ay-ay,
We’ll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots.

Danny Spooner sings Paddy Doyle’s Boots

Timme, way hey hey yah!
We’ll pay Paddy Doyle fer his boots.

Timme, wat hey hey yah!
We’ll all throw mud at the cook.

Timme, way hey hey yah!
We’ll all drink whiskey and gin.

Timme, way hey hey yah!
We’ll all shave under the chin.

Timme, way hey hey yah!
We’ll pay Paddy Doyle fer his boots.