I’m back after my yearly chest cold and it’s about time! 🙂

This time the Irish Pub Song Of The Day is Come Out Ye Black and Tans. Get your pinky fingers ready for a little workout.

Remember to have fun because that is the single most important thing.

Come Out Ye Black And Tans (PDF)

COME OUT YE BLACK AND TANS

I was [Bm]born on a Dublin street where the [A]royal drums do beat

And the [Bm]loving English feet they tramped all over us

And [D]each and every night when my [A]father’d come home tight

He’d [Bm]invite the neighbors [A]outside with this [Bm]chorus:

O come out ye Black and Tans, come out and [A]fight me like a man

Show your [Bm]wives how you won medals down in Flanders

Tell them [D]how the IRA made you [A]run like hell away

From the[Bm] green and lovely [A]lanes in Killa[Bm]shambrah.

Come tell us how you slew them poor arabs two by two
Like the Zulu they had spears and bows and arrows
How you bravely faced each one with your 16 pounder gun
Till you frightened them poor natives to their marrow.

Come let us hear you tell how you saved the great Parnell
When you thought him well and truly persecuted
Where are the sneers and jeers that you bravely let us hear
When our heroes of ’16 were executed.

Well the day is coming fast and the time is here at last
When each yeoman will cast aside before us
And if there be a need sure my kids will say “God’s Speed”
With a verse or two of singin’ this fine chorus
Chorus

We are Live (on tape) from iBAM! once again. This time for the Irish Pub Song Of The Day, Colonel O’Connor gives us a lively version of Finnegan’s Wake.

Remember to play along and have fun!

Finnegan’s Wake(PDF)

FINNEGAN’S WAKE

Ah, [C]Tim Finnegan lived in [Am]Walkin’ Street, A [F]gentleman Irish mighty [G]odd,

He [C]had a brogue both [Am]rich and sweet, An’ to [F]rise in the world he [C]carried

[G]a [C]hod.

[C]But Tim had a bit of a [Am]tipplin’ way, with the [C]love of the liquor [Am]he was

born,

And to [C]send him on his [Am]way each day, he’d a [F]drop of the craythur [G]ev’ry

[C]morn.

[C]Whack fol the dah will ya [Am]dance to yer partner, [F]Around the floor with yer

[G]trotters shake,

[C]Isn’t it the [Am]truth I tell ya? [F]Lots of fun at [G]Finnegan’s [C]Wake.

One morning Tim was rather full, His ould head felt heavy which made him shake,
He fell off the ladder and he broke his skull, And they carried him home his corpse to wake.
Oh they rapped him up in a nice clean sheet, And they laid him out upon the bed,
With a bottle of whiskey at his feet, And a barrel of porter at his head.

Well his friends assembled at the wake, and Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,
Well first she brought them tay and cake, then pipes, tobacco and brandy punch.
Then the Widow Malone began to cry, ah such a lovely corpse, did yis ever see,
Arrah, Tim avourneen, why did you die? Will ye hould your gob? said Molly McGee.

Well Mary Murphy took up the job, Ah Biddy, says she, you’re wrong I’m sure,
Well Biddy fetched her a belt in the gob, and left her sprawling on the floor.
A civil war did then engage, ‘Twas woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the rage, and a row and a ruction soon began.

Well Mick Maloney ducked his head,when a bottle of whiskey flew at him,
He ducked, and landing on the bed, the whiskey scatters over Tim.
Oh bedad he revives and see how he rises, Tim Finnegan rising in the bed,
Saying, twiddle your whiskey around like blazes,
Be the t’underin’ Jaysus, did ye think I was dead?