Hot Asphalt

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Irish Traditional arranged by 
Dubliners

HOT ASPHALT

# (I play chords in a 2/4 rhythm: 
1(down) 2(down'n'up) )

     Em                            
Good evening all my jolly lads, I'm
 G                D
 glad to find you well,
           Em                      
If you'll gather all around me now 
      D
the story I will tell,
          Em                
For I've got a situation and 
    G            D
begorrah and begob,
        Em                    D   
I can whisper all the weekly wage 
    Em
of nineteen bob.
       G                       
'Tis twelve months come October 
          G
since I left me native home,
       Em                          
After helping the Killarney boys to
   D
 bring the harvest down.
     Em                       
But now I wear the geansai and 
   G                D
around me waist a belt.
         Em                     
I'm the gaffer of the squad that 
  D         Em
makes the hot asphalt.

Continúa después del anuncio
CHORUS:
              G                  
    Well, we laid it in a hollows 
         G
and we laid it in the flat.
               Em                  
    And if it doesn't last forever 
         D
sure I swear I'll eat me hat,
                Em                 
    Well, I've wandered up and down
                G            D
 the world and sure I never felt
         Em                     D 
    any surface that was equal to 
     Em
the hot asphalt.

# (Follow the same chord pattern...)

The other night a copper comes and 
he says to me: "McGuire,
Would you kindly let me light me 
pipe down at your boiler fire?"
And he planks himself right down in 
front, with hobnails up, till late,
And says I: "Me decent man, you'd 
better go and find your bate!"
He ups and yells, "I'm down on you 
I'm up to all yer pranks,
Don't I know you for a traitor from 
the Tipperary ranks?"
Boys I hit straight from the 
shoulder and I gave him such a belt
That I knocked him into the boiler 
full of hot asphalt.

(CHORUS)

We quickly dragged him out again and
 we threw him in the tub,
And with soap and warm water we 
began to rub and scrub,
But devil the thing, it hardened and
 it turned him hard as stone
And with every other rub sure you 
could hear the copper groan.
"I'm thinking", says O'Reilly, "that
 he's lookin' like Ould Nick,
And burn me if I am not inclined to 
claim him with me pick."
"Now", says I, "it would be 'asier 
to boil him till he melts,
and to stir him nice and 'asy in the
 hot asphalt."

(CHORUS)

You may talk about yer sailorlads, 
ballad singers and the rest,
Your shoemakers and your tailors but
 we please the ladies best.
The only ones who know the way their
 flinty hearts to melt
are the lads around the boiler 
making hot asphalt.
With rubbing and with scrubbing sure
 I caught me death of cold,
and for scientific purposes me body 
it was sold,
In the Kelvingrove museum me boys, 
I'm hangin' in me pelt,
As a monument to the Irish mixing 
hot asphalt!

(CHORUS)
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That's it folk! More Irish songs 
soon to come!
I have a lot of Dubliners and Pogues
 stuff.
Any of you fans out there on the 
net, contact me: