| C | Am | | As | I was a'going over | Gilgarra mountain, |
|
| F | C | | I | spied Colonel Farrell and his | money he was counting. |
|
| C | Am | | First I drew my pistol and | then I drew my rapier, saying |
|
| F | Am | | "stand and deliver for I | am your bold deceiver." |
|
|
| | | G7 | | | Mu-sha | ring-um du-ram da. |
|
| | | C | | | | Whack fol the daddy - o, |
|
| | | Am | F | | | | whack fol the | daddy -o, |
|
| | | C | G7 | C | | | there's | whisky | in the | jar. |
|
|
| C | Am | | He | counted out his money | and it made a pretty penny, |
|
| F | C | | I | put it in my pocket to take | home to darling Jenny. |
|
| C | Am | | She | sighed and swore she loved me, and | never would deceive me, |
|
| F | C | | But the | devil take the woman for the | always lie so easy. |
|
|
| |
Mu-sha ring-um du-ram da... |
|
|
|
I went into the chamber all for to take a slumber, |
|
|
to dream of gold and girls. And of course it was no wonder, |
|
|
me Jenny took me charges and she filled them up with water |
|
|
called on Colonel Farrell to get ready for the slaughter |
|
|
| |
Mu-sha ring-um du-ram da... |
|
|
|
Next morning early before I rose to travel, |
|
|
a-came a band of footmen and likewise Colonel Farrell, |
|
|
I goes to draw my pistol for she'd stole away my rapier. |
|
|
But a prisoner I was taken I couldn't shoot the water. |
|
|
| |
Mu-sha ring-um du-ram da... |
|
|
|
They put me into jail with a judge all a-writen' |
|
|
robbing Colonel Farrell on Gilgarra mountain. |
|
|
But they didn't take me fists and I knocked the jailer down, |
|
|
and bid a farewell to this tight fisted town. |
|
|
| |
Mu-sha ring-um du-ram da... |
|
|
|
I'd like to find me brother the one that's in the army, |
|
|
I don't know where he's stationed |
|
|
in Cork or in Killerney. Together we'd go roaming |
|
|
over the mountains of Kilkenny, and I swear he'd treat me fairer |
|
|
than me darling sporting Jenny. |
|
|
| |
Mu-sha ring-um du-ram da... |
|
|
|
There's some takes delight in the carriages and rolling |
|
|
some takes delight in the hurley or the bolling. |
|
|
But I takes delight in the juice of the barley, |
|
|
courting pretty maids in the morning, oh so early. |
|
|
| |
Mu-sha ring-um du-ram da... |
|
Home
