Enjoy, Olly.

N.C.
Oh kiss me Maggie & take me home,

For I sure dinnae feel like dyin? alone,

Gawn geez a shot, chuck a doggie a bone,

Or a penny for me rattlin? can,

D(let ring)
As sure as Christ it?s a bitter pill,

But if you won?t have me, yer sister will,

I?ll cart me arse doon Surry Hills & call her out this evenin?,

Instrumental

||D|G|D|E A|
|D|G|D|A D||

Verse 1

Go on, go well, ye?re no catch o? mine,

Yer clothes in rags, ye reek o? fags & old green ginger wine,

My sisters aye a leezie into the drinkin?, dogs & cards,

My poor departed Father couldn?t flog her at the yards,

I?m a man o? some renown ?Jack the Lad? about the town,

We?ll share a plate of oysters, crack the neck o? Billy Brown,

Sly grog & salty treats, I?ll not grant yer wish,

I?m promised to the toll collector boy upon the bridge.

Chorus

Like good whisky in bad wounds,

Like honey on a toothache, you?ll never be mine,

Tho? we can dance, b?Jesus, we?ll swing like the razors,

Of Kate Leigh & Tilly Devine.

Verse 2

Why wait until yer dancin? shoes are scuffed and in the bin?

I?ll stitch my holey duds, scrape the whiskers from me chin,

We?ll get ye down yer scarlet gown, I?ll steal you somethin? blue,

I?d waltz off Millers point before I walk the aisle with you!

Wedding March

e|—————————————————————————|
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D|——————-2-0—0-2-4———————————————|
A|—————————————————————————|
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B|—————————————————————————|
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D|——————-2-0—0-2-4-2-0—————————————–|
A|—————————————————————————|
E|—————————————————————————|

Chorus

Like good whisky in bad wounds,

Like honey on a toothache, you?ll never be mine,

Tho? we can dance, b?Jesus, we?ll swing like the razors,

Of Kate Leigh & Tilly Devine.

Verse 3

Oh I?ll sing you ?six ribbons?!

Aye when your ?three sheets?!

Yer drunken, brawlin? caterwaulin? echoes through the streets,

Y?know I?m not yet very old,

Sure it?s poison when its cold,

And a dear old southerly belters sure to blow!

Chorus

Like good whisky in bad wounds,

Like honey on a toothache, you?ll never be mine,

Tho? we can dance, b?Jesus, we?ll swing like the razors,

Of Kate Leigh & Tilly Devine.

Verse
By the windy shores o’ Canada bay I broke my fast for Lucia’s day,
A beguiling figure she blew my away & rattled me rovin’ heart,
The snipers crack, the metronome of pricy heels on polished stone,
Am (mute)
That I were soon to call my own by way o’ the ancient art.

Verse
I were cozened by a whiff-o-the-whim that scours the Costa harryin’,
The likes o’ men who’ve lost the lamp, the rudderless and bewildered,
The sands below are littered wi’bones o’those whove taken a belly o’stones,
And turned their backs on wives & homes to follow the black Matilda.

Chorus
Ho-ro m’lovelies cross yer hearts & hope to die,
If e’er ye’re drawn beneath a murky fathom of her eye,
Ho-ro m’lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye,
Ye’ll never again be able to lift yer head so bloody high.

For even the boys of Inverary know, from Tortuga to Jericho,
She took three hundred souls below off the deck o’ the Andalusia,
The poets and the Sages tried to warn us down the ages,
Their blood drips from the pages where they tell o’ the Black Matilda.

Verse
She pursed her lips & spun a tune as fine as any silk cocoon,
That’s ever left McEacherns loom & held me there in a tawper,
A bastard I was born y’ken? I lived as tho’ I’d never end,
I’ll die a disenchanted man, they’ll bury me as a pauper,

Verse
For men have drowned & men have swung, the brig at Iron Cove were hung,
Wi’ a garland of the old, the young, all battered & unfamiliar,
There’s no poetry theres no tune, no point in howlin’ at the moon,
A caution to ye very soon ye’ll waltz yer Black Matilda.

Chorus
Ho-ro m’lovelies cross yer hearts & hope to die,
If e’er ye’re drawn beneath a murky fathom of her eye,
Ho-ro m’lovelies kiss yer arse a fond goodbye,
Ye’ll never again be able to lift yer head so bloody high.

For even the boys of Inverary know, from Tortuga to Jericho,
She took three hundred souls below off the deck o’ the Andalusia,
The poets and the Sages tried to warn us down the ages,
Their blood drips from the pages where they tell o’ the Black Matilda.

Verse
By the windy shores o Canada bay I broke my fast for Lucia’s day,
A beguiling figure she blew my away & rattled me rovin’ heart,
The snipers crack, the metronome of pricy heels on polished stone,
Am (mute)
That I were soon to call my own by way o’ the ancient art.

Chorus
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, cross yer hearts & hope to die,
Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, kiss yer arse a fond goodbye,
Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, cross yer hearts & hope to die,
Its enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, kiss yer arse a fond goodbye,
It’s enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Am (let ring)
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye die,

As usual, listen to the track to know how many times you need to strum, when to come in
etc, Have fun

(Whistle and Vocals)
There’s a county map to go on the wall,
A hurling stick & a shinty ball,
The bric, the brac, the craic & all,
Lets call it an Irish pub,

Caffreys, Harp, Kilkenny on tap,
The Guinness pie & that cabbage crap,
The ideal wannabee Paddy trap,
We’ll call it an Irish pub,

———-CHORUS——————-

Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book,
The only ‘craic’ you’ll get is a slap in the ear,
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I’ll up & burst yer filthy mug,
If you draw one more shamrock in me beer!

Underneath tin whistle

———————————–

We’ll raise the price o’ beer a dollar,
We’ll make em wear a shirt & collar,
We’ll fly a bloody tri-colour,
And call it an Irish pub,
Jager bombs & double shots,
The underagers think its tops,
We’ll spike the drinks & pay the cops,
We got us an Irish pub.

The quick one in the filthy bog,
The partin’ glass across the lug,
O’ the lady-O, the dirty dog,
We got us an Irish pub,
It's over to me and over to you,
We’ll skip along the Avenue,
And who t’hell is Ronnie Drew?
We got us an Irish pub.

CHORUS

Plasma screens & neon lights,
Kara-far kin-oke nights,
The bouncers they can pick the fights,
We’ll call it an Irish pub,
Plastic cups, a polished floor,
We’ll hose the blood right out the door,
And let the knucklers back for more,
We got us an Irish pub,

CHORUS

Vocals,drums
Oh top o’ the mornin’, Garryowen,
Kiss me I’m Irish, Molly Malone,
Failte, Slainte, Pog ma thon,
We got us an Irish pub,
Spike the punch & strip the willow,
Strike me up the rakes o’ Mallow,
The Liffey never ran so shallow,
We got us an Irish pub.

Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book,
The only ‘craic’ you’ll get is a slap in the ear,
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I’ll up & burst yer filthy mug,
If you draw one more shamrock in me beer!

G D C E x2

END

All credit goes to The Rumjacks for writing and performing this song, All i did was tab
it out for people to learn it 😀 have fun!!