This time around the Irish Pub Song Of The Day is The Ballad Of William Bloat. When I got some questions on how to find the melody on Raglan Road, I decided to do this song, since the melody is almost exactly the same.

All you need to do is change Raglan Road to 4/4 time from 3/4 time and eliminate the third line of the verse. Come on and try it!

William Bloat (PDF)

The Ballad Of William Bloat

In a [D]mean abode on the Shankill [G]Road

Lived a [D]man named [A]William [D]Bloat;

He [G]had a wife, the [D]bane of his life,

Who always [Bm]”got his [A]goat.”

So one [D]day at dawn, with her nightdress [G]on—

He [D]slit her [A]bloody [D]throat.

And yet—he was glad that he’d done what he had,
When she lay there stiff and still;
‘Til suddenly awe of the angry law
Struck his soul with an aweful chill.
So, to finish the fun so well begun,
He decided himself to kill.

He took the sheet off his wife’s cold feet,
And twisted it into a rope,
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf—
T’was an easy end, let’s hope —
In the face of death, with his latest breath,
He solemnly cursed the Pope!

But the strangest turn to the whole concern
Is only just beginnin’! —
He went to Hell, but his wife got well,
And she’s still alive and sinnin’ —
For the razor blade was British made,
But the rope was Belfast linen!

The Irish Pub Song Of The Day for the last week of Luke Kelly Month is Raglan Road on Frailing Banjo!

This is a great song in 3/4 time. All of the notes come out of the fretted chords so it’s an easy one to learn. Once you have the basic melody, experiment and have fun finding other sounds that can make this beautiful song even better.

Have fun and enjoy!

Raglan Road (PDF)

RAGLAN ROAD

On [D]Raglan Road of an autumn [G]day I [D]saw her [A]first and [D]knew

That [G]her dark hair would [D]weave a snare that I [Bm]might one day [A]rue

I [G]saw the [D]danger and I passed along the [Bm]enchanted [A]way

And [D]said let grief be a fallen [G]leaf at the [D]dawning [A]of the [D]day

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay
Oh I loved too much and by such by such is happiness thrown away

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret signs
Known to the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint I did not stint I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay he’ll lose his wings at the dawn of day