Craic Agus Ceol - Ballad Of Charlie Mopps

 The Irish band Craic Agus Ceol (Gaelic for 'Fun and Music') sent us their latest performance of a song anticipating St. Patrick's Day, a day honoring the patron saint of Ireland. The date of celebration is the 17th of March, the traditional day of St. Patrick's death. 

The subject of their song concerns an Irishman named Charlie Mopps, the man that invented beer! The original song 'Beer, Beer, Beer' uses a tune that may have originally been a drinking song in the British Isles. Another theory is that was written for use as a drinking song in Irish pubs. In any case, no one is really sure about the origins, and that the name 'Charlie Mopps' was a good rhyme for 'hops'.  The song is sung around the English-speaking world in many versions and variants. 

The band's take on the legend is that Charlie was swindled out of his invention by crooked publicans that got him to sign a contract giving them all the rights. After Charlie tried to fight it but found out he couldn't win, he was satisfied to know that a clause in the contract gave Charlie free beer for life in any pub he went! Charlie led a long life drinking beer, and died a happy man! 

With the coming of Saint Patty’s day there's a song you may hear
About an Irishman the people say invented beer
He throwed together yeast and water and all the finest hops
Sat and watched it bubble up, and the man is Charlie Mopps!
 
It'll be  Beer, beer, tiddily beer when the old song that you'll hear
Hardly benefittin' tune for the man what invented beer!
 
Charlie Mopps took the hops and throwed them in the water
He took a pint and swallowed it, and said  "That's quite a snotter!"
Charlie Mopps! Charlie Mopps! A man of history
Invented a drink that calms the nerves and is good for thee
 
Now ol' Charlie were a shy young man, and tried  to keep it quiet
But word got 'round and all the gang came to his house to try it
It were calmer than whiskey, more potent than drinkin' water
They all said "Charlie! Ye need to sell this stuff, ya really oughter!"
 
It'll be  Beer, beer, tiddily beer when the old song that you'll hear
Hardly benefittin' tune for the man what invented beer!
 
Charlie Mopps took the hops and throwed them in the water
He took a pint and swallowed it, and said  "That's quite a snotter!"
Charlie Mopps! Charlie Mopps! A man of history
Invented a drink that calms the nerves and is good for thee
 
All the publicans liked the brew, wondered what to name it
Wanted to come up with a name that wouldn't defame it
One a them said "Whatever we call this golden nectar,
When we sell a lot of it we'll be money collectors!"
 
It'll be  Beer, beer, tiddily beer when the old song that you'll hear
Hardly benefittin' tune for the man what invented beer!
 
Charlie Mopps took the hops and throwed them in the water
He took a pint and swallowed it, and said  "That's quite a snotter!"
Charlie Mopps! Charlie Mopps! A man of history
Invented a drink that calms the nerves and is good for thee
 
Well ol' Charlie liked his brew and drank until daylight
When he were drunk publicans pulled some dirty shite
They had a crooked solicitor draw up a contract
Given them the rights to the beer that the law backed
One night when all were sayin, "May yer glass be ever full!"
Day had him sign the contract, and it were all lawful!
 
But it weren't all a bad end, for good ol' Charlie Mopps
While he hired his own solicitor, found he couldn't stop,
The legal action takin' away his golden brew
But he didn't agonize aboot it, anger fret and stew
There were a clause in the paper, that gave year after year
Free for life for ol' Charlie, of his concoction they named beer!
 
Charlie Mopps who took the hops and throwed them in the water
Drank his fill at every pub, became quite a potter
Charlie Mopps! Charlie Mopps! A man of history
Died of old age, drinkin' beer, a man that died happily

Craic Agus Ceol - The Blarney Stone

 The Irish group Craic agus Ceol's latest is an Irish ballad about the Blarney Stone.  The stone is located in Blarney Castle in southern Ireland. The stone is steeped in rich folklore and history, and was set in the wall of a tower of Blarney Castle in 1446. According to the legend, kissing the stone gives the gift of gab to the kisser. The Castle and stone has attracted millions of visitors from all over the world.

To kiss the stone is not the easiest thing to do, as it requires the person to climb 200 stone steps up to its position 85 feet above ground and hang their head over backwards on the edge. There are guardrails to hold onto to assist, and an assistant to support the body. Before the guardrails were installed, the only way the stone could be kissed was by dangling upside down and backwards while someone else held you by the ankles! Even at the present with the guardrails it can still trigger anxiety and stress due to the height.

There's been some questions about how sanitary it is to kiss an old rock after so many have done the same thing.  Staff cleans the stone periodically with disinfectant, but not after each person kisses it. Accordingly, TripAdvisor named the stone the most unhygienic tourist attraction in the world in 2009! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Éire down southern coast 

Is the town of Cork City 

‘Bout 5 miles outside of town

 Lies the Castle named a Blarney

 In this castle is a limestone 

Built way up into the wall 

A thing folks be puttin' lips on 

To gain the power of it all 

 

Well then kiss me, I'm Irish! 

Green all way to me bones 

If ya cannot go to Ireland 

Be warmer then Blarney stone 

 

To plant you lips on the rock 

Is not a trial that's inferior 

Ye have to clamber up the peak 

The castle wall interior 

Ye have to lay down on yer back 

Grab hold of old iron rails 

While some one holds ye by the boots 

So ye don't end up in a fail 

 

I said kiss me, I'm Irish! 

Green all way to me bones 

If ya cannot go to Ireland 

I'm warmer then Blarney stone '

 

Tis a dauntin' task for sure 

And used to be even worse 

Never had the hand rails up there 

Which made it all quite perverse 

All ye had between tumblin' down 

To fate endin' in tragedy 

With some daft man holding ankles 

To prevent such calamity 

 

 I said kiss me, I'm Irish! 

Green all way to me bones 

If ya cannot go to Ireland

 I'm warmer den Blarney stone 

 

 What do ye gain by kissin' it

 An ancient, dirty old rock?

 'Tis ‘bout a legend anyway

 Which some take in great stock 

But they say it give the kisser 

Ability to not offend 

As your words can deceive 

Without no need to defend

 

 I got the Blarney, I'm Irish! 

Green all way to me bones 

I'll give the blarney trough me lips

 I'm warmer then Blarney stone

 

Craic Agus Ceol - Flense The Blubber Off The Carcass

 The Irish group Craic Agus Ceol has an affinity for sea shanties of their own devising. Traditional in form somewhat, but totally original. Their shanty Flense The Blubber Off The Carcass deals more with the aftermath of catching a whale, mainly reducing the carcass to whale oil a very valuable commodity in the 19th century. The blubber would be flensed, cut off, the carcass and boiled in water in great pots on the  deck. A dangerous job in itself, as open fired on the wooden deck was a hazard, as well as the oil itself which was highly flammable. 

The literature states that the average number of barrels (which were between 35-45 gallons) was 45. The price of a gallon of whale oil was between $2.50 to .50 in 1850, so a barrel could be worth as much as $120, depending on what kind of whale it came from, as the quality was different. Some sources give the range of 2,500 to 3,500 barrels of oil accumulated on a whaling voyage, so it could be highly lucrative, mainly for the owner vessel, but the crew made decent money for the times as well. 

But  they earned what money they made. A long voyage (up to 3 years) on board a ship with cramped, overcrowded, unsanitary quarters led to disease and death. Sailing ships expected the crews to climb the masts, straddle the spars for sail work, which saw death from falls. And then there was the prey themselves. Smaller boats would be dispatched from the main ship with a few men to harpoon the whales. Boas were overturned, and a harpooned whale didn't die immediately. They would become vicious and kill any sailors that fell overboard. 

The oil was used for illumination and lubrication, and before oil from wells came about, whale oil was one of the best choices for both uses. Whale oil burned bright in lamps and didn't smoke as bad, or smell as bad either, although it did have a slight fishy smell. Once oil from wells was refined and kerosene derived from it, the demand for whale oil dropped, as those products were considerably cheaper. But whaling didn't stop altogether, and still goes on to this day in a very limited industry. The oil is used for cosmetics and the pharmaceutical industry, but there are more and more substitutes being used. 

I sailed on whaler ships for many years 

I be a lucky one what lived to tell 

Meself I went out to sea twenty times 

A whalers life be a livin' hell! 

 

Longest voyage I was on be 4 years 

With lots of idle time do nothing seein' 

But then renderin' blubber be the worse 

Rotten stink, lot of hard work there bein' 

 

 Flense the blubber off the carcass, me lads! 

The Cap'n would holler at the sailors 

Git off all yer lazy arses! he cried

 An easy life it's not fer you whalers! 

 

The green hands be sick all over the deck 

When they first got a whiff the great stink! 

Renderin' blubber is a rotten job 

But it were a job ya couldn't shrink! 

 

Got the blubber all down to the oil 

Then we dip all it inta the casks 

Stink like rotten fish make some the men wretch 

Nothin' they could do to try and mask 

 

Flense the blubber off the carcass, me lads! 

The Cap'n would holler at the sailors 

Git off all yer lazy arses! he cried 

An easy life it's not fer you whalers! 

 

We kept on renderin' 'til we were done 

No time fer rest or lolligaggin' 

Had to get all the carcass all boiled doon 

Throw what's left overboard, while we're gaggin' 

 

 We always saved whale teeth and some bone 

Had buckets full of all the leavin's 

Some the men would use the teeth to carve 

Some pictures of our life while we're whalin' 

 

 Flense the blubber off the carcass, me lads! 

The Cap'n would holler at the sailors 

Git off all yer lazy arses! he cried 

An easy life it's not fer you whalers! 

 

The best voyage, we come back loaded down 

Wi' barrel upon barrel of whale oil 

All over ship, on deck to the gunnels 

No room fer anymore, had enough 

 

I went back out to sea a few more times 

But I were smart and saved all me money

 I quit the sea, took years to rid the stink 

Built a house, an' got meself a honey 

 

 No more flense the blubber off the carcass

 No Cap'n to holler at no sailor 

Finish out me days as a land lubber 

Ne'er missed me life as a whaler!

 

Craic Agus Ceol - Get Up Aloft

Another Sea Shanty style song from the Irish group Craic Agus Ceol. This time they tell the tale of going to sea with a cruel Captain, and after the crew reaches the breaking point, they devise a plant to drive the Captain insane. Seems the Captain is already 'real close to daft' as the song says, so they push  him over the edge by making noises down below to draw his attention. The Captain has a problem with hearing strange noises on the ship, and the obsession of finding out the cause. The plan finally works, the Captain has flipped his lid, and has to be put in the brig so he doesn't leap overboard. And as they complete the voyage, they find the Captain dead in the brig.

Evidently the song is based on an actual 19th century occurrence on a sailing vessel, but the group emphasizes that it is an original song of their own composition, as are all of  the Sea Shanty style songs. 

There were a sea cap’n, mean as a snake 

I went to sea with him once 

Most the rest of the crew were ol’ salts 

He kept callin’ ‘em stupid an’ dunce 

 

Dis Cap’n was real close to daft 

And the crew ‘had enough his abuse 

So we ‘ad a secret meeting, down below 

To come up with a plan we could use 

 

Get up aloft ya dumb bastard! 

Handle the ropes, man the winch! 

Whoever said ya was a sailor 

Were a lyin’ son of a bitch! 

 

After a while the crew figgered his soft spot 

He always was listenin’ for strange sounds 

With an ol’ sailin’ ship in them times 

Odd sounds would be goin’ ‘round 

 

He been to sea for many years 

Knew what the ship noises should be there 

So the crew decided to make noises 

Make ‘em all over, loud, and queer 

 

 Get up aloft ya dumb bastard! 

Handle the ropes, man the winch! 

Whoever said ya was a sailor 

Were a lyin’ son of a bitch! 

 

 We all did it when we was off watch 

The crew on deck played right along 

We worked all the nooks and crannies 

Tappin’, and rollin, along 

 

He always grabbed a tar on the deck, 

And ask if ‘e ‘eard the sound too 

But the swab would always say no sir 

Then into a rage the Cap’n flew 

 

Get up aloft ya dumb bastard! 

Handle the ropes, man the winch! 

Whoever said ya was a sailor 

Were a lyin’ son of a bitch! 

 

One day after a sleepless night 

He hollered, screamed , ran forward 

He were makin’ no sense with is talk 

And he almost took a leap overboard 

 

The first mate and some swabs grabbed him 

Wouldn't let him go! 

We ‘ad to put him in the brig 

An’ keep him hold up below 

 

We heard him scream through the night 

THIS SHIP BE HAUNTED!, he’d beller 

It were sad and horrible to hear 

He was now an insane feller 

 

The first mate took control of the ship 

And got us through to finish the round 

The crew got back to doin’ their work 

Then one day, the dead Cap’n they found….

 

 

Craic Agus Ceol - Everybody's Irish On St. Paddy's Day

We can't keep track of all of our artists. Some of them have been professional musicians all their lives, some of them are gifted amateurs that we took a chance on. The group Craic Agus Ceol is a professional group of Irish musicians that tour most of the year., so we seldom see them in our studio. They have other music studios they work with, then send us a file of the song to see if we're interested. We haven't turned them down yet, especially when they send a new song for St. Patricks' Day. 

No doubt they're kept busy by the approaching holiday, and they always try at least to be back in Ireland on the day itself. They sent an email with the file telling us about some other recordings they've done recently, so we're excited to see them when they get here! This song Everybody's Irish On St. Paddy's Day conveys what we've seen in restaurants and taverns in this country. With the diaspora of the Irish to the U.S.A. over the years, Irish ancestory has spread far and wide. And like the song says, if you don't have any Irish ancestros, you wish you would have!

 St. Patricks day is comin' up soon 

At the pub folks with different names you'll meet 

People named of Schmidt, Parelli, Skronsky 

So walk right in and grab yerself a seat 

 

Everybody's Irish on Saint Paddys day

 Head for the pub and have a drink 

Eat corned beef and cabbage, tell yarns 

There's more people Irish than ya think 

 

Durin' the potater famine many left the Green 

For so many places east and west 

But many of 'em landed in America 

Cuz they thought it would be for the best 

 

 Everybody's Irish on Saint Paddys day 

Head for the pub and have a drink 

Eat corned beef and cabbage, tell yarns 

There's more people Irish than ya think 

 

Many of 'em landed in New York 

An' didn't have a pot to piss in 

After a few years, they started spreadin 'out 

Never know where they ended up in 

 

 Everybody's Irish on Saint Paddys day 

Head for the pub and have a drink 

Eat corned beef and cabbage, tell yarns 

There's more people Irish than ya think 

 

 Pretty Irish lasses married all kinds of beaus 

With last names familiar and right queer 

As the customs dictate to the women 

They took their beaus surname right then and there

 

 Everybody's Irish on Saint Paddys day 

Head for the pub and have a drink 

Eat corned beef and cabbage, tell yarns 

There's more people Irish than ya think

 

 

Craic Agus Ceol - 25 Year Afore The Mast

 The Irish group Craic Agus Ceol (Fun and Music in Gaelic) brings for the their latest, another song in the form and spirit of a Sea Shanty. The group makes no bones about the fact that they write their shanties themselves, that they are not authentic tunes. it isn't all what they do, but on occasion they write one when the spirit strikes. One of the singers in the group is a descendant of sailors going back to the days of wind and sails, and has commented he heard a lot traditional ones at family get-togethers when he was young, and it left an impression.

I were 25 year afore the mast, 

A fancy way of saying I were a sailor. 

Spent time on all kinds a cargo ships 

And spent time on a stinkin', rotten, whaler 

 

 The sea was 'bout the only way fer me 

Couldn't do much else 'cause I'm so dumb 

It were hard work and I'm all cobbled up 

With aches in my joints, and a cock that's numb. 

 

 Ne'er went to school, started workin' young. 

I was a pain in the arse to my pappy. 

But he finally packed my off as a cabin boy 

To get rid of me made him happy. 

 

The sea was 'bout the only way to go 

Twern't a brainy lad, ya see 

Were a cabin boy 'til I growed up 

Had a hard time learnin' how to be at sea. 

 

 Hauled all kinds of cargo through the years. 

As much as the ship's hold would fit 

Lumber, grain, tin, and guano 

That's just a fancy way to say shit. 

 

 The sea were a hard master 

And 'cuz I were so dumb, 

It took my long time to learn the ropes

 Along the way, I lost a thumb! 

 

 I lived from one port to the other

 With my ship a tough master at sea 

Cap'ns were always a pain in the backside

 Took out their frustrations on me 

 

Most of 'em were old drunken bastards 

Hired by the owners of the ship. 

Mean and onry to the mates 

Were free with the mast-heading and whip 

 

One Cap'n was worst than the most a them were 

First mate talked to him in futility 

Some mates decided to take the ship 

Commit the grand crime of mutiny. 

 

They was found out, and the leader of the gang 

Got the ultimate penalty at sea. 

Hung him from a yardarm, the Cap'n did 

For the high crime of mutiny.

 

 Can still see him in my minds eye. 

He didn't die right off. 

He kicked, struggled as he choked to death 

Then the Cap'n let his body rot aloft. 

 

He were a friend a mine, the mutineer 

The one thing I dearly used to wish 

To meet the Cap'n on a back street in some port 

Take out my knife, and gut him like a fish! 

 

All that's a long, long time past

 I live with my daughter from a maid in port 

Never knew her when she were growin' up 

She's a forgivin', and lovable sort. 

 

So I spend my days sittin' on a bench 

All mangled up and a patch over my eye 

Look like a goddam pirate sittin' there. 

I’ll keep tellin' sea stories 'til I die

 

 

Craic agus Ceol - The Cobbler

 Craic agus Ceol writes most of their own material, including this story song about a bachelor cobbler. It's good to follow along with the lyrics, as the singer has a pronounced Irish accent, which gives the song a feel of authenticity, but also makes it a little difficult to understand! 

There was a cobbler in the town of me birth 

An' when his workin' day was through, 

Would go over to the pub next door, 

An talk and have a whiskey or two. 

 

 Sometimes he drank a little more, 

Tell the publican 'I'm off to me bed' 

He staggered, left the tavern afoot. 

Met someone on the way he said: 

 

 Me name be Hannigan! Me shoe shop’s next door. 

Need good shoes pamper yer feet. 

I can tell they're right sore! 

Me shoes will be a treat fer yer feet! 

 

He worked long days, he did. 

But he always knew when to close the doors. 

He'd get dry mouth, a powerful thirst, 

Go across the street for some pours. 

 

 He always try to stop at just two. 

But by then it tasted mighty fine.

 So he stayed and had a few more, 

And out the door he would wind. 

(And he said) 

 

 Me name be Hannigan! Me shoe shop’s next door. 

Need good shoes to pamper yer feet. 

I can tell they're right sore! 

Me shoes will be a treat fer yer feet!! 

 

He be batchin' it fer many a year, 

Then a fine lady come into the shop. 

He measured her feet, talked to her lots. 

He thought of her later, and couldn't stop.

 

When he went to the pub he talked to the publican, 

Told him what happened that day. 

He didn't understand what was going on, 

He'd never in his life felt that way. 

 

Publican said, "Hannigan, you be so daft!" 

Don't ya know a true spark when it shows! 

Yer in love!" he said with a big laugh. 

"Now just see if it fades out, or grows!" 

 

So Hannigan kept makin' shoes all day, 

And to the pub he kept on a goin'. 

But he kept on thinkin' 'bout her, 

He knew his love was growin'. 

 

So when she come back in the shop, 

He had gave bright polish to her shoes, 

The way she said, "Thank you!" 

He figgered he had nothin' to lose!

 (He said) 

 

 “Ma'am, don’t wish to be a boor, 

But be an honor if you'd sup with me?"

 She blushed, looked down at the floor,

 And said "Why...yes. I’m certainly free!" 

 

 Now time keeps passin' as it does,

 Things differ while some things don’t. 

Hannigan still works in his shop, 

And forget to go to pub he won’t. 

 

 He closes the doors at an earlier time.

 In the pub has two whiskeys not more, 

He tips his hat to the smilin' publican, 

And then heads straight out the door. 

(And he says) 

 

Me name be Hannigan! Me shoe shop’s next door. 

Good shoes will sure improve yer life! 

I can tell they're right sore! 

But pardon me, I've got to get home...to me....sweet wife!

 

 

Craic agus Ceol - Name o' Shay

The Irish group Craic agus Ceol (Fun and Music) comes forth with one of their original songs that is in very much the tradition of an Irish love song. 

She's a sweet and lovely lady, 

living down near Galway bay. 

She's a green eyed red haired beauty, 

Going by the name o' Shay. 

 

'Tis no secret that I love 'er, 

More than I can ever say.

 I close my eyes, and I can see her, 

My sweetheart name o' Shay. 

 

 I do not get to see her much, '

Tis my situation, ya see.

 I live a far piece away, 

Her Papa doesn't approve a me.... 

 

But I will wait patiently, 

Until I'm down that way, 

She'll sneak off and sit there waiting, 

On a bench near Galway bay.

 

 Her eyes are green like emeralds,

 her face is fair and thin. 

With hair that curls 'round her neck, 

So much goodness deep within. 

 

When I get there, I will ask her, 

If she'll follow me today.

 For her Papa doesn't approve of me, 

My sweetheart name o' Shay. 

 

 Will be so hard to go away, 

from all her family. 

But I think 'tis the only way, 

She can ever be with me. 

 

 Her Papa has been so open, 

In his chasing me away, 

So I'll steal her from them overnight, 

And leave Galway bay. 

 

I shall see her tonight, 

See if she wants a new life, 

I pray she goes with me hand in hand, 

To be.... my loving..... wife!

 

 

Craic agus Ceol - I'll Never Go Back To Sea

Craic agus Ceol (Fun and Music)

 The Irish Gaelic group Craic agus Ceol (which is Irish Gaelic meaning Fun And Music) is aptly named. One of our associates attended one of their shows, and he told us that by t he end of the night they had most of the audience clapping along with their music. Even though this song, I'll Never Go Back To Sea, doesn't have the brightest of lyrics, the group manages to instill in their performance a driving rhythm that makes it at least not so glum. 

The group is presently on tour, and have been playing to sold out crowds. They have a large repertoire of songs, most of them written by the group in different styles of Irish Gaelic folk music and such. The leader of the group is Angus McGrath, and our associate got a chance to talk to him, and he asked him about the controversy of authenticity that surrounds an other one of our artists, Bertrum Magnussen. Here is what he had to say.

I've heard a great deal of music all my life from these parts. Ireland, Scotland, England, on and on. What I've heard of the music Mr. Magnussen says is authentic, I can only say it sounds like it is, even with the few modern things that slip into it. So I pass on saying if it is or isn't authentic. But even if it is, to perform it exactly like it was during its time, way before sound recordings, is jn a very real sense not possible. There's very little written about performance practices at the time, and no matter how much study and research you put into it, you'll only be able to THINK you've given an authentic performance. But that misses the point. It's the music, and how to perform it in OUR time to reach the listener is the important task.  Our group is steeped in the traditions that have been passed down from one generation to another, so we understand the problems. I'll tell you, most of what we perform is our original work written in the style of the older music. We do play some old standard Irish folk songs as well, and we take it as a compliment when someone tells us that is a beautiful old song when it's one of ours. But we always acknowledge tat it is original with us too. We never try to pass off something we've written as a song from long ago!

We are going to try to get more recordings of the group before their tour is over and they head back to Ireland. We don't know how soon they'll be back, and we want to hear more!

I were a tar, for a long, long, time, 

Was told to go to sea when I was young, 

Had no use for people, no one, ya see, 

So hired on a whaler when I were young’un. 

 

 Swabbed the bilge, swabbed the deck, 

swabbed 'til I nearly broke me neck! 

Any filthy job, they saved 'em fer me, 

That was me first experience at sea! 

 

 Well all that muckin' 'bout never helped me none, 

To develop a love of me fellow man. 

The Cap'n of this ship was a mean old bastard, 

Took a rod and smacked me on the hand! 

 

Took a few years to get big enough for better jobs,

 And the Cap'n's abuse, finally stopped. 

He found out I was a right good hand, 

when I was old enough to skitter aloft.

 

 I had me a good set of eyes, 

Could see away, far off. 

So the Cap'n kept me up on the mast, 

Never spent much time not aloft. 

 

 I could see far off spray of a whale, 

I could see the rollin' blowin' storm. 

I grew to be a part of that salty ol' mast, 

Hugged it just like the thing were me Mom. 

 

 One day when I were busy lookin' 

A gust blew me off of me perch.

 Landed hard on the deck, broke lots a bones, 

It robbed me most all I was worth. 

 

 So I lost all me value to the Cap'n. 

Clean the head or nothin' he let me try. 

Begged and pleaded, but it never did work. 

And as it happened, neither did I 

 

So I had to go ashore forever.

 Quit all me life under sail. 

Never to smell the sweet sea air, 

Now me life has gone stale. 

 

So I whittle and carve me some scrimshaw, 

I can still do that with me broken back. 

Sell it when I can to any people I can, 

To the sea...I'll never....go back!