Chords for The Dubliners ~ Preab San Ól
Tempo:
97.95 bpm
Chords used:
Eb
G
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure?
Amass and treasure, why scrape and save?
Why look so canny at every penny?
You'll take no money within the grave.
Landlords and gentry, with all their plenty, Must [G] still go empty wherever they're bound.
So to my thinking, we'd best be drinking Our glasses clinking, and round and round.
There's some a-hee, a-visig then, A-chin no penis, a-den a-stoy.
It's laid a-hive, no [Eb]-stirrer on tale, So g'me'sh it's shi-unta, fin' lick a foil.
Mas t'ean a-teer a-d'yook nor-ee-ho, Neer a'ch a-pin lad fin' void.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, chair prob's an' all.
King Solomon's glory, so famed and story, Was far out-shun by the lily's guise.
But hard winds harden both field and garden, Pleading for pardon, the lily dies.
Life's but a bubble of toil and trouble, The feathered arrow once shot n'er found.
So lads and lasses, because life passes, Come fill your glasses for another round.
Erse ma-hli, fi-os a-gal-i-ly-sh-gi-a-bhach, G'ig-er-bwys-g'ar-gall-ach-roan.
Solomon crean a-inn-a-ch-a-law-ree-a-ghal, Neer ve-ch-a-ng-a-var, ve-ch-a-nee-of-gal-oh.
O' n'eal's a-tail, shoch ma-shun-an-gwee-ha, Un-slam-na-sg-wee-la, no-slam-d'n-heo.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, ve-ch-air prob's an' all.
[N] The hock's d'r greedy, he blinds the needy, De' straits an' heeding shouts money down.
His special vice is his fancy price, As for a florin's value he'll charge a crown.
With hum for trammel, the scripture's camel, Miss'd a needle's eye, and so came to ground.
Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches, To hold your britches up another round.
Amass and treasure, why scrape and save?
Why look so canny at every penny?
You'll take no money within the grave.
Landlords and gentry, with all their plenty, Must [G] still go empty wherever they're bound.
So to my thinking, we'd best be drinking Our glasses clinking, and round and round.
There's some a-hee, a-visig then, A-chin no penis, a-den a-stoy.
It's laid a-hive, no [Eb]-stirrer on tale, So g'me'sh it's shi-unta, fin' lick a foil.
Mas t'ean a-teer a-d'yook nor-ee-ho, Neer a'ch a-pin lad fin' void.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, chair prob's an' all.
King Solomon's glory, so famed and story, Was far out-shun by the lily's guise.
But hard winds harden both field and garden, Pleading for pardon, the lily dies.
Life's but a bubble of toil and trouble, The feathered arrow once shot n'er found.
So lads and lasses, because life passes, Come fill your glasses for another round.
Erse ma-hli, fi-os a-gal-i-ly-sh-gi-a-bhach, G'ig-er-bwys-g'ar-gall-ach-roan.
Solomon crean a-inn-a-ch-a-law-ree-a-ghal, Neer ve-ch-a-ng-a-var, ve-ch-a-nee-of-gal-oh.
O' n'eal's a-tail, shoch ma-shun-an-gwee-ha, Un-slam-na-sg-wee-la, no-slam-d'n-heo.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, ve-ch-air prob's an' all.
[N] The hock's d'r greedy, he blinds the needy, De' straits an' heeding shouts money down.
His special vice is his fancy price, As for a florin's value he'll charge a crown.
With hum for trammel, the scripture's camel, Miss'd a needle's eye, and so came to ground.
Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches, To hold your britches up another round.
Key:
Eb
G
Eb
G
Eb
G
Eb
G
Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure?
Amass and treasure, why scrape and save?
Why look so canny at every penny?
You'll take no money within the grave.
Landlords and gentry, with all their plenty, Must [G] still go empty wherever they're bound.
So to my thinking, we'd best be drinking Our glasses clinking, and round and round.
There's some a-hee, a-visig then, A-chin no penis, a-den a-stoy.
It's laid a-hive, no [Eb]-stirrer on tale, So g'me'sh it's shi-unta, fin' lick a foil.
Mas t'ean a-teer a-d'yook nor-ee-ho, Neer a'ch a-pin lad fin' void.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, chair prob's an' all.
King Solomon's glory, so famed and story, Was far out-shun by the lily's guise.
But hard winds harden both field and garden, Pleading for pardon, the lily dies.
Life's but a bubble of toil and trouble, The feathered arrow once shot n'er found.
So lads and lasses, because life passes, Come fill your glasses for another round.
Erse ma-hli, fi-os a-gal-i-ly-sh-gi-a-bhach, G'ig-er-bwys-g'ar-gall-ach-roan.
Solomon crean a-inn-a-ch-a-law-ree-a-ghal, Neer ve-ch-a-ng-a-var, ve-ch-a-nee-of-gal-oh.
O' n'eal's a-tail, shoch ma-shun-an-gwee-ha, Un-slam-na-sg-wee-la, no-slam-d'n-heo.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, ve-ch-air prob's an' all.
[N] The hock's d'r greedy, he blinds the needy, De' straits an' heeding shouts money down.
His special vice is his fancy price, As for a florin's value he'll charge a crown.
With hum for trammel, the scripture's camel, Miss'd a needle's eye, and so came to ground.
Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches, To hold your britches up another round. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Amass and treasure, why scrape and save?
Why look so canny at every penny?
You'll take no money within the grave.
Landlords and gentry, with all their plenty, Must [G] still go empty wherever they're bound.
So to my thinking, we'd best be drinking Our glasses clinking, and round and round.
There's some a-hee, a-visig then, A-chin no penis, a-den a-stoy.
It's laid a-hive, no [Eb]-stirrer on tale, So g'me'sh it's shi-unta, fin' lick a foil.
Mas t'ean a-teer a-d'yook nor-ee-ho, Neer a'ch a-pin lad fin' void.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, chair prob's an' all.
King Solomon's glory, so famed and story, Was far out-shun by the lily's guise.
But hard winds harden both field and garden, Pleading for pardon, the lily dies.
Life's but a bubble of toil and trouble, The feathered arrow once shot n'er found.
So lads and lasses, because life passes, Come fill your glasses for another round.
Erse ma-hli, fi-os a-gal-i-ly-sh-gi-a-bhach, G'ig-er-bwys-g'ar-gall-ach-roan.
Solomon crean a-inn-a-ch-a-law-ree-a-ghal, Neer ve-ch-a-ng-a-var, ve-ch-a-nee-of-gal-oh.
O' n'eal's a-tail, shoch ma-shun-an-gwee-ha, Un-slam-na-sg-wee-la, no-slam-d'n-heo.
Mas sin'd a-vree, sin' nill bart n'yis' chena, Na veg a-shir-ee, ve-ch-air prob's an' all.
[N] The hock's d'r greedy, he blinds the needy, De' straits an' heeding shouts money down.
His special vice is his fancy price, As for a florin's value he'll charge a crown.
With hum for trammel, the scripture's camel, Miss'd a needle's eye, and so came to ground.
Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches, To hold your britches up another round. _ _ _ _ _ _ _