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(Just one moment)

The Irishman’s Shanty

G major/D major – C major/G major/A minor/G major

Have ye’s ever been down to an Irishman’s shanty

Where money is scare, but the whiskey is plenty

The women are plump and the problems are many

With whiskey and women, och, nobody cares

***

There’s a three-legged stool, with a table to match,

And the door of the shanty is locked with a latch;

There’s a rate feather mattrass all bustin’ with straw,

For the want of a bedstead, it lies on the floor. Arrah!

***

There’s a snug little bureau, without paint or gilt,

Made of boords that was left when the shanty was built;

A three-cornered mirror that hangs on the wall,

But divil the face has been in it at all. Arrah!

***

He has pigs in the sty, and a cow in the stable,

And he feeds them on scraps that is left from the table;

They’d starve if confined, so they roam at their aise,

And come into the shanty whinever they plaise. Arrah!

***

He has three rooms in one — kitchen, bed-room, and hall

And his chist it is three wooden pegs in the wall;

Two suits of owld clothes makes his wardrobe complete,

One to wear in the shanty, that same for the street. Arrah!

***

He can relish good victuals as ever ye’s ate,

But is always continted with praties and mate;

He prefers them when cowld (if he can’t get them hot)

And makes tay in a bowl, when he can’t get a pot. Arrah!

***

He heeds not the rain, though it comes in a flood,

For the roof of the shanty is shingled with mud.

There’s a hole at one end makes a chimney so neat

For the smoke and the sparks from the fire to retreat.

***

There’s one who partakes of his sorrows and joys,

Attends to the shanty, the girls and the boys;

(The brats he thinks more of than gold that’s refined.)

But Biddy’s the jewel that’s set in his mind. Arrah!

***

The rich may divide their enjoyments alone,

With those who have riches as great as their own,

But Pat hangs the latch-string outside of his door,

And will share his last cent with the needy and poor.

Arrah! me honey! w-h-a-c-k! Paddy’s the boy.

***

Have ye’s ever been down to an Irishman’s shanty

Where money is scare, but the whiskey is plenty

The women are plump and the problems are many

With whiskey and women, och, nobody cares