Chords for Ronnie Drew - The Dingle Puck Goat
Tempo:
94.4 bpm
Chords used:
D
Am
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[D]
I am an old jobber, both foolish and airy.
The green hills of Kerry I long for to see.
I went back to Dingle to buy in some cattle, and wait till I tell you what happened to me.
[Am] I entered the fair [D] of a Saturday morning.
First thing I met was a long-legged goat.
Desire to me self to come entered me, dailing,
Be that me bowler here, or you're worth a pound note.
So I made me approach to the owner that held him.
A bargain we struck there without much delay.
He said, if you land me down twenty-two shillings, some advice I will give you before you go away.
This daring old harrow was red on the mountain.
In the year sixty-four he was first used at will.
But some of his comrades were hung and transported.
Now he's determined some blood for the spill.
The old man was parting, and I was first starting, but the words that he told me put me in dismay.
The first jump he gave him, he broke me left arm.
So I jumped on his back and cut hold of his mane.
Says, I'm me bow-ranger on your back, I'm now landed, and if I don't fall off you may go where you will.
Well, he ran down the street like a pook, I distracted, and soon made his way out towards old Conner Hill.
When me came into Brandon I thought it was London.
I regretted me journey when I saw the sea.
But he jumped in the water and he swam out across.
And when towards Castle Gregory he made the near way.
The waves of the ocean put me in a motion.
The fishes they ate all the nails of me toes.
Long-headed mackerel jumped up at me nostrils, and he nearly made away with the half of me nose.
When he came to the land now he hastily galloped, and torched down the gelted which then needed steer.
To a mill-town called Oglin and into Killarney.
And he never cried crack till he come to Kenmare.
Then at last the goat spoke, say me past our headquarters, where me old ancestors always have been.
We'll go back there now, and we'll take up our lodging.
Carragheen a gower where there's plenty budging.
To the town of Treleene how he next took his rambles.
He was anxious, I think, some more sport for the sea.
To his outside the town that we met some Highlanders.
He upped with his hardens and tore all their toes.
The Highlanders yelled and they roared me a murder.
Called for the Polars to take him to jail.
The whole of the force they were coming around him.
To me hero he turned and he showed them his tail.
They jumped out of the basin and I fell on the footway.
Away went me goat and I saw him no more.
Perhaps he's gone back to the place he belongs to.
Or maybe he stayed for some far distant shore.
But if he's alive he's in Camper and Brandon.
Away in the mountains or somewhere remote.
But while I'm alive I've a story worth telling.
Of me rambles we don't carry on the dingle of gauze.
I am an old jobber, both foolish and airy.
The green hills of Kerry I long for to see.
I went back to Dingle to buy in some cattle, and wait till I tell you what happened to me.
[Am] I entered the fair [D] of a Saturday morning.
First thing I met was a long-legged goat.
Desire to me self to come entered me, dailing,
Be that me bowler here, or you're worth a pound note.
So I made me approach to the owner that held him.
A bargain we struck there without much delay.
He said, if you land me down twenty-two shillings, some advice I will give you before you go away.
This daring old harrow was red on the mountain.
In the year sixty-four he was first used at will.
But some of his comrades were hung and transported.
Now he's determined some blood for the spill.
The old man was parting, and I was first starting, but the words that he told me put me in dismay.
The first jump he gave him, he broke me left arm.
So I jumped on his back and cut hold of his mane.
Says, I'm me bow-ranger on your back, I'm now landed, and if I don't fall off you may go where you will.
Well, he ran down the street like a pook, I distracted, and soon made his way out towards old Conner Hill.
When me came into Brandon I thought it was London.
I regretted me journey when I saw the sea.
But he jumped in the water and he swam out across.
And when towards Castle Gregory he made the near way.
The waves of the ocean put me in a motion.
The fishes they ate all the nails of me toes.
Long-headed mackerel jumped up at me nostrils, and he nearly made away with the half of me nose.
When he came to the land now he hastily galloped, and torched down the gelted which then needed steer.
To a mill-town called Oglin and into Killarney.
And he never cried crack till he come to Kenmare.
Then at last the goat spoke, say me past our headquarters, where me old ancestors always have been.
We'll go back there now, and we'll take up our lodging.
Carragheen a gower where there's plenty budging.
To the town of Treleene how he next took his rambles.
He was anxious, I think, some more sport for the sea.
To his outside the town that we met some Highlanders.
He upped with his hardens and tore all their toes.
The Highlanders yelled and they roared me a murder.
Called for the Polars to take him to jail.
The whole of the force they were coming around him.
To me hero he turned and he showed them his tail.
They jumped out of the basin and I fell on the footway.
Away went me goat and I saw him no more.
Perhaps he's gone back to the place he belongs to.
Or maybe he stayed for some far distant shore.
But if he's alive he's in Camper and Brandon.
Away in the mountains or somewhere remote.
But while I'm alive I've a story worth telling.
Of me rambles we don't carry on the dingle of gauze.
Key:
D
Am
D
Am
D
Am
D
Am
[D] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I am an old jobber, both foolish and airy.
The green hills of Kerry I long for to see.
I went back to Dingle to buy in some cattle, and wait till I tell you what happened to me.
[Am] I entered the fair [D] of a Saturday morning.
First thing I met was a long-legged goat.
Desire to me self to come entered me, dailing,
Be that me bowler here, or you're worth a pound note.
_ _ _ _ So I made me approach to the owner that held him.
A bargain we struck there without much delay.
He said, if you land me down twenty-two shillings, some advice I will give you before you go away.
This daring old harrow was red on the mountain.
In the year sixty-four he was first used at will.
But some of his comrades were hung and transported.
Now he's determined some blood for the spill. _ _ _ _
The old man was parting, and I was first starting, but the words that he told me put me in dismay.
The first jump he gave him, he broke me left arm.
So I jumped on his back and cut hold of his mane.
Says, I'm me bow-ranger on your back, I'm now landed, and if I don't fall off you may go where you will.
Well, he ran down the street like a pook, I distracted, and soon made his way out towards old Conner Hill.
_ _ _ _ When me came into Brandon I thought it was London.
I regretted me journey when I saw the sea.
But he jumped in the water and he swam out across.
And when towards Castle Gregory he made the near way.
The waves of the ocean put me in a motion.
The fishes they ate all the nails of me toes.
Long-headed mackerel jumped up at me nostrils, and he nearly made away with the half of me nose. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
When he came to the land now he hastily galloped, and torched down the gelted which then needed steer.
To a mill-town called Oglin and into Killarney.
And he never cried crack till he come to Kenmare.
Then at last the goat spoke, say me past our headquarters, where me old ancestors always have been.
We'll go back there now, and we'll take up our lodging.
Carragheen a gower where there's plenty budging. _
_ _ _ To the town of Treleene how he next took his rambles.
He was anxious, I think, some more sport for the sea.
To his outside the town that we met some Highlanders.
He upped with his hardens and tore all their toes.
The Highlanders yelled and they roared me a murder.
Called for the Polars to take him to jail.
The whole of the force they were coming around him.
To me hero he turned and he showed them his tail. _ _ _ _
They jumped out of the basin and I fell on the footway.
Away went me goat and I saw him no more.
Perhaps he's gone back to the place he belongs to.
Or maybe he stayed for some far distant shore.
But if he's alive he's in Camper and Brandon.
Away in the mountains or somewhere remote.
But while I'm alive I've a story worth telling.
Of me rambles we don't carry on the dingle of gauze.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I am an old jobber, both foolish and airy.
The green hills of Kerry I long for to see.
I went back to Dingle to buy in some cattle, and wait till I tell you what happened to me.
[Am] I entered the fair [D] of a Saturday morning.
First thing I met was a long-legged goat.
Desire to me self to come entered me, dailing,
Be that me bowler here, or you're worth a pound note.
_ _ _ _ So I made me approach to the owner that held him.
A bargain we struck there without much delay.
He said, if you land me down twenty-two shillings, some advice I will give you before you go away.
This daring old harrow was red on the mountain.
In the year sixty-four he was first used at will.
But some of his comrades were hung and transported.
Now he's determined some blood for the spill. _ _ _ _
The old man was parting, and I was first starting, but the words that he told me put me in dismay.
The first jump he gave him, he broke me left arm.
So I jumped on his back and cut hold of his mane.
Says, I'm me bow-ranger on your back, I'm now landed, and if I don't fall off you may go where you will.
Well, he ran down the street like a pook, I distracted, and soon made his way out towards old Conner Hill.
_ _ _ _ When me came into Brandon I thought it was London.
I regretted me journey when I saw the sea.
But he jumped in the water and he swam out across.
And when towards Castle Gregory he made the near way.
The waves of the ocean put me in a motion.
The fishes they ate all the nails of me toes.
Long-headed mackerel jumped up at me nostrils, and he nearly made away with the half of me nose. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
When he came to the land now he hastily galloped, and torched down the gelted which then needed steer.
To a mill-town called Oglin and into Killarney.
And he never cried crack till he come to Kenmare.
Then at last the goat spoke, say me past our headquarters, where me old ancestors always have been.
We'll go back there now, and we'll take up our lodging.
Carragheen a gower where there's plenty budging. _
_ _ _ To the town of Treleene how he next took his rambles.
He was anxious, I think, some more sport for the sea.
To his outside the town that we met some Highlanders.
He upped with his hardens and tore all their toes.
The Highlanders yelled and they roared me a murder.
Called for the Polars to take him to jail.
The whole of the force they were coming around him.
To me hero he turned and he showed them his tail. _ _ _ _
They jumped out of the basin and I fell on the footway.
Away went me goat and I saw him no more.
Perhaps he's gone back to the place he belongs to.
Or maybe he stayed for some far distant shore.
But if he's alive he's in Camper and Brandon.
Away in the mountains or somewhere remote.
But while I'm alive I've a story worth telling.
Of me rambles we don't carry on the dingle of gauze.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _