Rolling Home
This was one of the few folk songs that I learnt from hearing my father sing as a child. He always sang it, along with ‘Leaning on a Lampost’, ‘The Rose of Tralee’, and ’The Miners Dream of Home’ in the early hours of New Years Day when drink had been taken.
When I was growing up it was always a tradition to have a New Year Celebration Party at home after the nearby Hope Working Mens Club had closed. At about 12-30 am, my father, assorted aunts and uncles, and family friends would all come rolling in all in party mood.
When we were young we were not allowed to go downstairs, and always had to stay in our bedroom. As I grew older I was allowed to partially come downstairs and sit on the third step from the foot of the stairs so I could listen to the singing.
If my Uncle Frank, my Aunty Joan’s husband was present, he always smuggled me some food and a surreptitious opened bottle of India Pale Ale which I would discreetly mop down.
Rolling Home
Here’s to the good old whisky mop it down, mop it down
Here’s to the good old whisky mop it down
Here’s to the good old whisky
It makes you feel so frisky.
Here’s to the good old whisky mop it down
Chorus
Rolling home, rolling home, Rolling home, rolling home
By the light of the silvery moo-oo-oon
Oh, happy is the day when a sailor gets his pay
When he goes rolling, rolling home blind drunk
Here’s to the good old beer mop it down, mop it down
It fills you up with cheer.
Here’s to the good old brandy mop it down, mop it down
It makes you feel so randy.
Here’s to the good old sherry mop it down, mop it down
It makes you feel so merry.
Here’s to the good old wine mop it down, mop it down
It makes you feel right fine.
Here’s to the good old cider mop it down, mop it down
It makes you warm inside yer.