Chords for The Pogues With The Dubliners

_ _ _ _ _ _
[G] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [C] _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ On the 4th of July, _ [D] _ [C] 1806, [G] we set sail from the [D] street called the Cork. _
[G] We were sailing away with the [Bm] cargo [Am] of [G] bricks for the Grand [Dm] City Hall [G] in New York.
_ But a wonderful [D] craft she was rigged for the [G] Daffs, and oh how the wild winds [D]
blow her.
[G] She stood several blasts, she'd [Bm] twenty [C]-seven masts, [D] and they called her the [G] Irish _ Grover.
We had one million bags of the best [C] slugger rags.
[G] We had two million barrels [D] of bone.
[G] We had three million piles of all nanny [C] goat's tails.
We [D] had four million barrels [G] of stone.
We had five million dogs, [D] six million huts, [G] seven million [D] barrels of horse.
[G] We had eight million hides of all blind [C] horses' hides.
[G] And oh, the Irish [D] _ _ [G] Grover.
_ There was our Mickey Toot who played hard [C] on his flute [G] when the ladies lined up [D] for a set. _
[G] He was too little of a skill for his squeaky [C] quadril, [G] so the dancers [D] were [G] fluttered and bent.
_ When he smirked, when he [D] talked, he was cock on the walk.
[G] When he rolled the dame down [D] there and _ over, [G] they all knew at a glance.
When he took [C] up his steps, [D] and he sang the name the [G] Irish _ Grover.
_ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [C] _ _ [G] _ _
_ [D] There _ _ _
[G] _ _ _ _ _ _
[C] _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
[G] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [D] _ _ _ _
[G] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ _ [C] _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ was Wernie McGee from the [C] banks of the Mead.
There [G] was Hogan from Canty [D] Saraw.
There [G] was Jimmy McGurk who was [D] scared stiff [C] of work, but [D] a man from Westmead [G] come along.
There was Slugger Robb's [D] who had a strong guts and growl.
[G] He played the shy [D] sling from Dover.
There [G] was the hammer _ from the [C] banks of the [G] Bough.
The skip and the Irish [D] _ [G] Grover. _
For a sailor it's always a bother in life.
It's so lonesome by night [D] and by day.
And [G] he longs for the shore, for the [Bm] pity [C] of shore, who [G] will melt [D] all his troubles [G] away.
_ _ Harden lies in the rout, [D] Philip Eugene is stout.
[G] For him soon it's [D] done and over.
[G] But the lover _ made, he's never [C] afraid, and [D] a song from the Irish [G] _ Grover. _
When he sailed seventy eight, when [Bm] the mazes [C] broke [G] out, he simply lost his [D] way and the fog.
And [G] no one ever grew as rich as the [C] two, [D] as the band of Cotton's [G] Old Love.
Then a ship slugger [D] Robb, oh Lord what a shot, _
[G] something [D] was spurred right over. _ _ _ _
[G] Nine times around, and the poor old dog was [C] round.
_ _ _ _ _ [G] _
_ Ask the Irish [D] _
_ [G] Grover. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ [C] _
[G] _ _ _ _ _ [D] _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ _ [C] _ _ [G] _ _
[D] _ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ [G] _ _
_ _ _ [D] _ [C] _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ [G] _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ [N] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _