Тональность: G major•
Intro 1
D
C
D
G
D
C
D
C
Am
G
D
And it's by the hush -me -bys
Verse 1
D
C
Am
And that's to hold your knives
D
G
And listen to poor Paddy's narration
D
I was by hunger pressed,
C
and in poverty distressed
Am
D
So I took a thought,
C
Am
I'd leave the Irish nation
G
D
Am
Here's you boys, do take my advice
D
G
To America I'd have you not be comin'
D
G
For there's nothin' here but war
D
Am
Where the murderin' cannons roar
D
Am
And I wish I was at home
D
Am
D
in dee road, Adam
G
D
Well, I sold my horse and plough,
C
Am
I sold my pig and cow
D
And from that farm of land I parted
And my sweetheart Biddy McGee,
C
Am
oh, I'm sure I'll never see
D
Am
C
For I left her on that mornin'
Am
G
broken hearted
D
Am
Here's you boys, do take my advice
D
G
To America, I'd have you not be comin'
D
For there's nothing here but war
Am
where the mur derin' cannons roar
D
Am
And I wish I was at home
in dear old Adam
G
D
Then meself and a hundred more
C
Am
to America sailed o 'er
D
Our fortunes to be makin'
we were thinkin'
When we landed in Yankee land
C
Am
They shoved a gun into our hand
Sayin' Paddy,
C
Am
G
you must go and fight for Lincoln
D
Am
Here's you boys, you take my advice
D
G
To America I'd have you not be comin'
D
For there's nothin' here but war
Am
Where the martyrin' cannons roar
D
Am
And I wish I was home in dear old Arran
G
D
Am
Interlude 1
C
D
G
D
Am
D
Am
G
Verse 2
D
General Martu has said,
Am
if you get shot or lose your head,
D
every mother's son of you will
get a pension.
In the war, I lost my leg,
C
all life now is a wooden peg.
Am
D
Am
By my soul, it is the truth to
C
Am
G
you I'll mention.
D
Am
Here's you boys, who take my advice,
D
G
To America I'd have you not be coming,
D
For there's nothing here but war,
Am
Where the marjoram cannons roar,
Dm
Am
And I wish I was at home
D
Now I think myself in luck
C
Am
to be fed on Indian buck
D
In Aldia land, the country I delight in
And with the devil I do say,
C
O Christ curse America
Am
D
Dm
D
For I'm sure I've had enough
C
Am
G
of your hard fightin'
D
Am
Here's you boys, do take my advice
D
G
To America I'd have you not be comin'
D
For there's nothin' here but war
Am
Where the marjoram cannon wheels roar
Dm
Am
And I wish I was a Tom Lindy Rodin
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