Tom: Cm
Introdução:
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One evening a late, down to Crow Street I strayed
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To a bar that's famous, for doin' the late trade
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In vodka and whiskey, and red lemonade
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Among company that's kindly and jovial
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The man from Conallaigh, put me at me ease
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And he sat me down easy beside a big blaze
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He poured me a pint, and a half on that place
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And another wee drop came from Oweny
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For an hour and a half, I drank liquor so rare
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I yet swear it was brewed by the gods, I declare
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Out of nectars and honeys and lotuses fair
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And it frеshly came over the bordеr
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At half past eleven, I sadly prepared
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To return to my lodgings, back where I was reared
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I packed up my bags, I was filled with don't care
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And then Oweny put in a big order
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So the tiplers relaxed, and returned to their drinks
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Rejoicing that now they need not feel the pinch
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Peter Short finished off the last eighth of an inch
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He was suppin' since twenty past seven
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And the music began, in an old fashioned style
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You would travel to hear it, for manys a mile
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We were laughin' and dancin' away all the while
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I thought I was dead and in heaven
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Oh, there were lads there from Newry, the Rock and the Hack
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And some came from Belfast and never went back
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And more lived convenient, the Carrolls and Blacks
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And every man Jack swilling porter
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Some came from Hill Street, and more from the Key
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Some Crossmaglen patriots, tearing away
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In a skene on the Boyne, they were all in array
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And each one kept themselves in good order
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Now a big dirty guard, was out on the street
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On passing the door, heard the music so sweet
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He kicked up his heels, for to beat a retreat
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To summon up two of his cronies
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They quickly returned to the scene of the crime
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And they called on the company, to fight or resign
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Let them in cried Pat Murphy, we'd only be fine
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On the night that the gards raided Oweny's
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Said the Sergeant on enterin', Well what's this I see?
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And why are so many of ye on the spree?
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Could it be that at long last, the country is free?
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Your conduct it is most nefarious
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Oh the country's not free, then Oweny did say
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If you want to drink porter like the rest you must pay
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We'll stay here if we like, 'til the clear light of day
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You know in don dark we're gregarious
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So the gards went around, and they took all our names
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And they struggled to spell, with their feeble wee brains
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And theres some names in Irish, they made a great hames
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And more they abandoned forever
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To the roof of Mullhollands some quickly did climb
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To gaze on a far, at the scene of the crime
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To watch the old gards, make it good over time
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As they gathered the rest all together
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Then the divil he rose them, high up on the ramp
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The gard and the Sergeant, the lad with the lamp
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The dirty mean miserable, lousy lower tramps
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From the bog that were dragged up so lowly
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May they always see suffering, sorrow and pain
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May their boots never fit, and their belts never strain
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If they enter of such a grand evening again
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As the night that the gards raided Oweny's
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May their motors all stand, and their noses all run
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And their necks now so red all turn green in the sun
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And their teeth all turn black, and fall out one by one
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May starvation it make them grow bony
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May their arses all fester, and drop to their heels
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And their last dyin' minutes, be tempered with squeals
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May they dance forever, the fastest of reels
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With the divil for raidin' poor Oweney's