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The Bard Of Armagh ukulele

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There is no strumming pattern for this song yet. and get +5 IQ
i tabbed it 2 steps up:

  
            C F C G7
    Oh list' to the lay of a poor Irish harper,
         Am F C F
    And scorn not the strings in his old withered hands,
         C F Am G7
    But remember those fingers, they once could move sharper,
            Am F C-Gsus4-C
    To raise up the strains of his dear native land.

                C F C G7
    It was long before the shamrock, dear Isle's lovely emblem,
                 Am F C F
    Was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon's lion paw,
                   C F Am G7
    And all the pretty colleens around me would gather,
                 Am F C-Gsus4-C
    Called me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.

    
                  C F C G7
    How I love to muse on the days of my boyhood,
                   Am F C F
    Though four score and three years have fled by since then.
                        C F Am G7
    Still it gives sweet reflection, as every young joys should,
                    Am F C-Gsus4-C
    For the merry-hearted boys make the best of old men.

    
                    C F C G7
    At a fair or a wake I would twist my shillelagh,
                   Am F C F
    And trip through a dance with my brogues tied with straw.
                          C F Am G7
    There all the pretty maidens around me would gather,
               Am F C-Gsus4-C
    Called me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.


                   C F C G7
    In truth I have wandered this wide world over,
                     Am F C F
    Yet Ireland's my home and a dwelling for me.
              C F Am G7
    And, oh, let the turf that my old bones shall cover
               Am F C-Gsus4-C
    Be cut from the land that is trod by the free.

 
                        C F C G7
    And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms doth embrace me,
                     Am F C F
    And lulls me to sleep with old 'Erin-go-Bragh',
                 C F Am G7
    By the side of my Kathleen, my dear pride, oh, place me,
                    Am F C-Gsus4-C
    Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh. 

            
            
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