The Ballad of the Wood Turner’s Craft

Irish Pub Songs and Sea Shanties, male vocals

(Verse 1)
Oh, gather ye close, and I’ll spin you a yarn,
Of the wood turner’s trade and the strength of his arm.
With a pole lathe a-humming, his foot sets the pace,
And the shavings rise soft as they dance in their place.
(Chorus)
So sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair,
Of the craftsman’s devotion, his patience and care.
Seven years bound to learn by the flame,
And ten more to wander before earning his name.
(Verse 2)
The treadle lathe whispers its rhythm so true,
As the craftsman turns timber from old into new.
From candlesticks slender to balusters grand,
Each curve is a mark of his skill and his hand.
(Chorus)
Oh, sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair,
Of the craftsman’s devotion, his patience and care.
Seven years bound to learn by the flame,
And ten more to wander before earning his name.
(Verse 3)
The great wheel lathe roars mighty for beams stout and wide,
Shaping pillars for halls where the lords will reside.
Furniture spindles and staircases fine,
Each piece bears his mark in its elegant line.
(Bridge)
The gouge digs the hollow; the chisel refines,
Each tool has its voice in the wood’s sacred lines.
The grain speaks in whispers to those who will hear,
Its secrets passed down through each master’s career.
(Chorus)
Oh, sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair,
Of the craftsman’s devotion, his patience and care.
Seven years bound to learn by the flame,
And ten more to wander before earning his name.
(Verse 4)
Now master he stands at his lathe proud and worn,
His hands bear the scars of long nights ‘til the morn.
From apprentice to journeyman roaming afar,
To a master whose craft shines as bright as a star.
(Final Chorus)
So sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair,
Of a lifetime devoted with love rare and fair.
Through decades of toil and wisdom well-earned,
The craft of the wood turner forever is turned!
(Outro)
So raise up your glass to this ancient old trade,
To each lathe that has sung and each tool that was made.
For in every fine turning their stories remain—
Here’s to wood turners who honor their name!

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(Verse 1) Oh, gather ye close, and I’ll spin you a yarn, Of the wood turner’s trade and the strength of his arm. With a pole lathe a-humming, his foot sets the pace, And the shavings rise soft as they dance in their place. (Chorus) So sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair, Of the craftsman’s devotion, his patience and care. Seven years bound to learn by the flame, And ten more to wander before earning his name. (Verse 2) The treadle lathe whispers its rhythm so true, As the craftsman turns timber from old into new. From candlesticks slender to balusters grand, Each curve is a mark of his skill and his hand. (Chorus) Oh, sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair, Of the craftsman’s devotion, his patience and care. Seven years bound to learn by the flame, And ten more to wander before earning his name. (Verse 3) The great wheel lathe roars mighty for beams stout and wide, Shaping pillars for halls where the lords will reside. Furniture spindles and staircases fine, Each piece bears his mark in its elegant line. (Bridge) The gouge digs the hollow; the chisel refines, Each tool has its voice in the wood’s sacred lines. The grain speaks in whispers to those who will hear, Its secrets passed down through each master’s career. (Chorus) Oh, sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair, Of the craftsman’s devotion, his patience and care. Seven years bound to learn by the flame, And ten more to wander before earning his name. (Verse 4) Now master he stands at his lathe proud and worn, His hands bear the scars of long nights ‘til the morn. From apprentice to journeyman roaming afar, To a master whose craft shines as bright as a star. (Final Chorus) So sing of the spindle, the bowl, and the stair, Of a lifetime devoted with love rare and fair. Through decades of toil and wisdom well-earned, The craft of the wood turner forever is turned! (Outro) So raise up your glass to this ancient old trade, To each lathe that has sung and each tool that was made. For in every fine turning their stories remain— Here’s to wood turners who honor their name!

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