Hot Asphalt Chords

Standard (EADGBE)

 Good Emevening all my jolly lads, I'm Gglad to find you Dwell,

 If you'll gEmather all around me now the stDory I will tell,

 For I've gEmot a situation and begGorrah and begDob,

 I can whEmisper all the weekly wDage of nEmineteen bob.

 'Tis twGelve months come October since I lGeft me native home,

 After hEmelping the Killarney boys to brDing the harvest down.

 But nEmow I wear the geansai and arGound me waist a bDelt.

 I'm the gEmaffer of the squad that mDakes the hEmot asphalt.

Chorus

  Well, we lGaid it in a hollows and we lGaid it in the flat.

  And if it dEmoesn't last forever sure I swDear I'll eat me hat,

  Well, I've wEmandered up and down the world and sGure I never fDelt

  any sEmurface that was equal tDo the hEmot asphalt.

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)

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:

On the rocky road to Dublin,

CIC