The Humours Of Whiskey taby ukulele według Traditional Irish (Chwyty barytonu)

Rytmy: du-d-du-d

C                                 F
Let your quacks and newspapers be cutting their capers 
G                           F               C
About curing the vapors the scratch and the gout 
C                                 F
With their medical potions, their serums and their lotions 
C                                G          C
Upholding their notions, they're mighty put out. 

C                               F
Who can tell the true physic to all that's pathetic 
G                              F         C
And pitch to the divil, cramp, colic and spleen 
C                             F
You'll know it I think if you take a big drink 
C                                 G      C
With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen 

C                           F
So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature 
G                            F            C
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys 
C                       F
Oh what botheration, no dose in the nation 
C                         G         C
Can give consolation like poteen me boys. 

C                     F
No liquid cosmetic to lovers athletic 
G                      F           C
Or bodies pathetic can give such a bloom 
C                                 F
As the sweet by the powers in the garden of flowers 
C                                 G       C
Ever gave their own bowers such a darling perfume 

C                              F
And this liquid so rare if you willingly share 
G                                F            C
To be taking your hair when it's frizzled and dead 
C                           F
Oh the sod has the merit to yield the true spirit 
C                               G               C
So strong it will shake all the hairs from your head 

C                             F
Then stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature 
G                            F            C
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys 
C                           F
Oh since its perfection, no doctor's direction 
C                               G         C
Can cleanse the complexion like poteen me boys 

C                              F
While a child in me cradle, me nurse with her ladle 
G                           F         C
Was filling my mouth with a notion of pap 
C                           F
When a drop from her bottle fell into my throttle 
C                            G          C
I stumbled and capered clean out of her lap 

C                               F
On the floor I lay crawlin' and screaming and bawling 
G                              F             C
'Til me mother and father were called to the fore 
C                            F
All sobbing and sighing they feared I was dying 
C                         G          C
But soon found I only was crying for more. 

C                           F
So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature 
G                            F            C
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys 
C                             F
Oh lord how they'd chuckle if babes in their truckle 
C                         G         C
They only could suckle on poteen me boys 

C                               F
Through my youthful aggression, through times of depression 
G                               F           C
My childhood's impression still clung to my mind 
C                               F
And at school or at college the basis of knowledge 
C                            G       C
I never could gulp 'til with whiskey combined 

C                        F
And as older I'm growing times ever bestowin' 
G                     F         C
On Erin's potation, a flavor so fine 
C                                F
And how ‘ere they may lecture on jove and his nectar 
C                       G      C
Itself is the only true liquid divine 

C                           F
So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature 
G                            F            C
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys 
C                                 F
Oh lord, 'tis the right thing for courting and fighting 
C.                          G         C
There's nowt so exciting as poteen me boys. 

C                               F
Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle 
G                              F           C
What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream 
C                            F
What best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal 
C                             G             C
What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam 

C                           F
What'll make the lame walk, what will make the dumb talk, 
G                      F            C
The elixir of life and philospher's stone 
C                               F
And what helped Mr. Brunnell to build the Thames Tunnel 
C                     G       C
Wasn't it poteen from ould Inisowen 

C                           F
So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature 
G                            F            C
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys 
C                           F
Oh lord, it's no wonder, if lightning and thunder 
C                                G         C
Weren't made from the plunder of poteen me boys. 

C                          F
You maidens pathetic, with lovers athletic 
G                              F        C
For liquid cosmetic, you can't beat the drop 
C                             F
With a glow to your cheek, it will make your heart leap 
C                         G           C
It'll quiet a stallion or cure an old cob 

C                                F
At the mouth you would drool, be reduced to a fool 
G                                  F           C
You'd kick up your heels and you'd peel to the buff 
C                                F
Then 'tis he'd be pathetic while you'd be athletic 
C                        G            C
If only you'd take a few drops of the stuff 

C                           F
So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature 
G                            F            C
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys 
C                                   F
For there's nothing like whiskey to make maidens frisky 
C                         G            C
It soon separates all the men from the boys.