The Day Of My Return Chords by Mike Denver

[E] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ My name is John O'Reilly and my father [A] worked the fields in the hills [E] of old Killarney where I helped him turn [B] the wheels.
[E]
My arms grew hard as iron for a boy [A] of seventeen and I used my fists [E] for gambling in [B] those wet Killarney [E] streets.
_ _ _ _ Well the ship left for America and I took my packing [A] board, said goodbye to my [E] dear iron, said a prayer to my [B] dear lord.
Well [E] I fought those sorry guineas in the kitchen, they [A] called hell, and I fought them for [E] their dollars and [B] those guineas paid [E] me well.
Fare thee well, fare Dover, fare thee well, your [A] season's turned, my pockets will [E] be chingling on the day of my [C#m] return, [B] the [E] day of my return. _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [A] _ _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ _ [C#m] _ _ [B] _ [E] _
_ _ Well I fought in New York City and I fought the [A] Jersey Shores, my gun seat full [E] of whiskey and my bed seat full [B] of whores,
[E] they called my right a cannonball, my left they [A] called a saint, and I left them [E] all a-lying [B] half in blood and [E] half in shame.
Well I met a man on 32 and he stuck [A] out his hand and he offered [E] me a thousand if I'd fall before [B] he's mad,
[E] but I said it could be done but only for [A] another two, and he smiled at [E] me and nodded [B] as I stuck it in [E] my shoe. _
Fare thee well, fare Dover, fare thee well, your [A] season's turned, my pockets [E] will be chingling on the day of [C#m] my return, [B] the day of [E] my return. _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [A] _ _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ _ [C#m] _ _ [B] _ _
[E] _ _ _ Well they rang the bell two times before I let him [A] have my nose, and I let him [E] work my left until my eye was swollen [B] closed,
[E] then I let loose a right that they still talk [A] about today, but that kid he [E] didn't know that [B] I had fed the [E] other way.
_ Well they covered every dock and every port there [A] on the coast, looking for the [E] double-crosser who had turned [B] into a ghost,
[E] but I was on a train, my friend, that rode the [A] other way, and I sailed from [E] California back to Dublin one fine day.
Fare thee well, fare Dover, fare thee well, your [A] season's turned, my pockets [E] will be chingling on the day of my [C#m] return, [E] the day of my return.
_ Fare thee well, fare Dover, fare thee well, your [A] season's turned, my pockets [E] will be chingling on the day of my [C#m] return, [E] the day of my return. _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [A] _ _ _ _ _ [E] _
_ _ [C#m] _ _ [B] _ _ [E] _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[A] _ _ _ _ _ [E] _ _ _
_ [C#m] _ [B] _ _ [E] _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _