Tonalité : D major•
Verse 1
D
In a Maine abode,
on the Shankill Road,
Lived a man named William Bloat.
G
D
And he had a wife, the bane of his life,
Who always got his goat.
A
D
And one day at dawn,
G
with her nightdress on,
D
he slit her bloody throat.
Now he was glad he had
done what he had,
as she lay there stiff and still.
G
D
Till suddenly all of the angry law
filled his soul with an awful chill.
A
D
G
And to finish the fun so well begun
A
D
He decided himself to kill
Then he took the sheet
G
from his wife's cold feet
D
And he twisted it into a rope
G
D
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf
A
It was an easy end, let's hope
D
With his dying breath, and he facing death,
G
A
D
he solemnly cursed the Pope.
But the strangest turn
of the whole concern
G
D
is only just beginning.
G
He went to hell,
D
but his wife got well,
A
and she's still alive and sinning.
D
Bm
A
G
For the razor blade was German made,
D
A
D
but the rope was Belfast made.
you
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