The Pool Song

The Dubliners

  • Am
  • C
  • F
  • G
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Tono:
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[Verse 1]
C Am May the Lord upon high who rules the sky
F G C Look down on our pubs and bars
C Am And the women and men all seated within
F G C Neglecting their pints and their jars
C Am The craic it is bad, the atmosphere sad
F G C Every man has a face like a mule
C Am For all he can do is to grab an old cue
F G C And start playing that game of pool [Verse 2]
C Am Well, when I was a boy it was always me joy
F G C To go to the pub each night
C Am There were arguments scraps and killings perhaps
F G C And everyone thought he was right
C Am There were badgers and dogs, and men from the bogs
F G C And young fellows acting the tool
C Am But now there's no crack, for everyman Jack
F G C Has his arse in the air playing pool
[Verse 3]
C Am To the local ale house after milking the cows
F G C Every customer made his way
C Am And there he would dwell and drink till he fell
F G C While the fiddles and pipes they did play
C Am The jigs and the reels, the rattling of heels
F G C Polkas and slides were the rule
C Am But now there's no chance of a tune or a dance
F G C For everyone's playing the ould pool [Verse 4]
C Am Well, this pool you will find is a game designed
F G C For foolish illiterate louts
C Am You push in four bob and you pull an old knob
F G C And a big shower of balls they come out
C Am They're placed on a table and then if you're able
F G C To knock them all into a hole
C Am More money goes in, you start over again
F G C And you lose every bob of your dole [Verse 5]
C Am Now in the Irish Free State, all the people are bate
F G C From watching and playing this game
C Am In their necks they have cricks, that no doctor could fix
F G C And their backs and their shoulders are maimed
C Am Their arses protrude in a manner most lewd
F G C From being hoisted aloft in the air
C Am And their eyeballs are sore, and dripping in gore
F G C And they act in a manner most quare [Verse 6]
C Am So if you meet a young man, who's face it is wan
F G C And his eyes have a vacant stare
C Am His jawbone is slack, and his head is thrown back
F G C And he can't tell a cob from a mare
C Am His nostrils dilated, his brow corrugated
F G C His manners like those of a fool
C Am On your shirt you can bet, that you have just met
F G C A man that's gone plain mad from pool
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