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Michael Conway ukulele

by Solas
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[Capo on II]


      F                C/E          Am             F
Oh my name is Michael Conway, in old Ireland I was born
        F               C/E         F              G
Near the lake of Cloonacolly on a bright summer's morn
     F              F           C/E                      F
But soon came cruel winter to break and scatter my poor home
   F           F    F         G            F
Soon came the harsh day that forced me to roam.

       F                  C/E            Am               F
Well I reached old Philadelphia in the brave land of the free
        F                 C/E                F               G
Where I met with my two brothers; There was Pat, James, and me
       F                 F               C/E               F
We were destined for the rich land fate owes us all from birth
         F               F    F         G              F
We were bound for Butte, Montana, the richest hill on earth

            F                   F             F               F
Where their pockets they bulge heavy, when copper's running high
          F                  F                 Am       G
Where the hill rewards her brave sons, it's fortune or die
           F                C/E             Am              F
Where they tread on silver dollars on the crowded barroom floor
            F                 F   F            G              F
While they strip the granite mountain of her precious copper ore.

         F                     C/E                   Am                     
Well we leaped down off that steam train, and stepped out into the yellow 
  F
mist
       F                  C/E                F              G
With holes still in our hearts then, and a fight in either fist
        F         F                      C/E           F
No kind face to lead us up to where the dirty smelter spat
         F                     F F         G           F
And it's there I took to hard labor as a Butte mining rat

         F                  F                  F              F
Where we trade the hours of daylight for the smell of copper ore,
           F                F              Am           G
Where it's whiskey and the cow pats to cure our copper sores
       F                C/E               Am            F
Where half the town it labors while the other half it sleeps
      F                 F   F       G             F
Where upon the granite mountain, a mile high and deep.


[Break--same as chorus]

        F                 C/E           Am             F
Oh they know me down in Dogtown, bare knuckle I would go
     F                      C/E             F             G
For there's not a man could best me while standing toe to toe
       F                   F             C/E                      F
But I defied the crooked sheriff, for I wouldn't throw his fight away
     F                        F   F        G               F
He should have laid it on at 5 to 2, and backed the bold Conway

     F             C/E                Am                      F
I was lifted in Con Peoples, with the beer and music flowing free
        F                   C/E               F         G
Where my brothers had just left me, Oh bad fortune for me
       F                F              C/E                     F
Dragged out by crooked cowards, their batons knocked me off my feet
       F             F    F            G           F
And they left me to die there, like a dog in the street.

     F          F            F              F
Far from the Anaconda, the mine with seven stacks
     F              F           Am                   G
Far from the ashen faces of young men with crooked backs
     F            C/E                    Am                  F
Far from the granite mountain and the dusty grave in which I lie
   F               F  F              G          F
My spirit chases starlings 'round a clear Mayo sky.


(outro)    F     F       G       F

            
            
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