Chords for Linda Thompson - Paddy's Lamentation
Tempo:
78.025 bpm
Chords used:
F
Eb
G
Gb
Abm
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
Oh, it's by the [G] hush me boys, I'm sure that's to hold your noise,
And listen to poor Paddy's lamentation.
[F] Oh, I was by hunger pressed, And in poverty [Abm] distressed,
So I took a thought, I'd [Eb] leave the Irish [Gb] nation.
[N] Well, I sold me horse and [F] cow, Me little [E] pigs and sow,
[Cm] Me little plot of land, And I'm departed,
[F] And me sweetheart, Britt McGee, I'm afraid [Eb] I'll never see,
For I left her there that morning broken-hearted.
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
[G] To America I'll have you's not be coming.
[F] There is nothing here but war, Where the murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
Well, me self and a hundred more, To America sailed o'er,
Our fortunes to be made, We were thinkin',
[N] But when we got to Yankee land, They shoved a gun into our hands,
Sayin', Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln.
Aye, I thought my self in luck, To [Eb] be fed on Indian buck,
And old Ireland the place that I'd lie [Gb] meetin',
But with the [N] devil I do say, Curse America,
For I am sick and tired of this heart fightin'.
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
To America I'll have you's not [G] be [Gbm] coming.
There is nothing here but war, Where the [Eb] murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
[N]
And listen to poor Paddy's lamentation.
[F] Oh, I was by hunger pressed, And in poverty [Abm] distressed,
So I took a thought, I'd [Eb] leave the Irish [Gb] nation.
[N] Well, I sold me horse and [F] cow, Me little [E] pigs and sow,
[Cm] Me little plot of land, And I'm departed,
[F] And me sweetheart, Britt McGee, I'm afraid [Eb] I'll never see,
For I left her there that morning broken-hearted.
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
[G] To America I'll have you's not be coming.
[F] There is nothing here but war, Where the murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
Well, me self and a hundred more, To America sailed o'er,
Our fortunes to be made, We were thinkin',
[N] But when we got to Yankee land, They shoved a gun into our hands,
Sayin', Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln.
Aye, I thought my self in luck, To [Eb] be fed on Indian buck,
And old Ireland the place that I'd lie [Gb] meetin',
But with the [N] devil I do say, Curse America,
For I am sick and tired of this heart fightin'.
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
To America I'll have you's not [G] be [Gbm] coming.
There is nothing here but war, Where the [Eb] murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
[N]
Key:
F
Eb
G
Gb
Abm
F
Eb
G
Oh, it's by the [G] hush me boys, I'm sure that's to hold your noise,
And listen to poor Paddy's _ _ lamentation.
[F] Oh, I was by hunger pressed, And in poverty [Abm] distressed,
So I took a thought, I'd [Eb] leave the Irish [Gb] nation.
[N] Well, I sold me horse and [F] cow, Me little [E] pigs and sow,
[Cm] Me little plot of land, And I'm departed,
[F] And me sweetheart, Britt McGee, I'm afraid [Eb] I'll never see,
For I left her there that morning broken-hearted. _
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
[G] To America I'll have you's not be coming.
[F] There is nothing here but war, Where the murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
_ _ _ Well, me self and a hundred more, To America sailed o'er,
Our fortunes to be made, We were _ thinkin',
[N] But when we got to Yankee land, They shoved a gun into our hands,
Sayin', Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln.
_ Aye, I thought my self in luck, To [Eb] be fed on Indian buck,
And old Ireland the place that I'd lie [Gb] meetin',
But with the [N] devil I do say, Curse America,
For I am sick and tired of this heart _ fightin'.
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
To America I'll have you's not [G] be [Gbm] coming.
There is nothing here but war, Where the [Eb] murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
_ _ _ [N] _
And listen to poor Paddy's _ _ lamentation.
[F] Oh, I was by hunger pressed, And in poverty [Abm] distressed,
So I took a thought, I'd [Eb] leave the Irish [Gb] nation.
[N] Well, I sold me horse and [F] cow, Me little [E] pigs and sow,
[Cm] Me little plot of land, And I'm departed,
[F] And me sweetheart, Britt McGee, I'm afraid [Eb] I'll never see,
For I left her there that morning broken-hearted. _
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
[G] To America I'll have you's not be coming.
[F] There is nothing here but war, Where the murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
_ _ _ Well, me self and a hundred more, To America sailed o'er,
Our fortunes to be made, We were _ thinkin',
[N] But when we got to Yankee land, They shoved a gun into our hands,
Sayin', Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln.
_ Aye, I thought my self in luck, To [Eb] be fed on Indian buck,
And old Ireland the place that I'd lie [Gb] meetin',
But with the [N] devil I do say, Curse America,
For I am sick and tired of this heart _ fightin'.
Oh, here's you boys, Now take my advice,
To America I'll have you's not [G] be [Gbm] coming.
There is nothing here but war, Where the [Eb] murderin' cannons roar,
And I wish I was at home, In dear old Dublin.
_ _ _ [N] _