Misc Traditional – Humors Of Whiskey (Guitar)

Key
-
Versions (2)

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Chords

A                                 E
Let your quacks and newspapers be cuttin' their capers,

D              A            E
And curing the Vapours, the Scratch, and the Gout.

A                           E
With their medical potions, their pills and their lotions.

D               A             E          A
Upholding their notions their mighty put out.

A                               E
Who can tell the true physic of all things pathetic,

D                A            E
And pitch to the Devil cramp, colic, and spleen?

A                                   E
Oh, you'll find them I think if you take a big drink

          D            A          E        A
With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen.

A                            E
Then stick to the cratur the best thing in nature

D                A            E
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys.

A                         E
Oh, what botherations, no bolt to the nations

D              A           E         A
Can bring consolation like poteen me boys.

 A                                 E
No liquid cosmetic to lovers athletic,

D              A            E
Or ladies pathetic can bring such a bloom.

A                           E
As the sweet, by the powers to the garden of flowers

D               A             E          A
Never brought its own powers such a darling perfume.

A                               E
And this liquid's so rare, if you're willin' to share,

D                A            E
To be takin' your hair when its grizzled and dead.

        A                                   E
Oh, the sod has the merit to yield the true spirit,

  D            A          E        A
So strong it'll shake all the hairs from your head.

A                            E
Then stick to the cratur the best thing in nature

D                A            E
For sinkin' yoiur sorrows, and raisin' your joys.

A                         E
Oh, since its perfection, no doctor's direction

D              A           E         A
Can clense the complexion like poteen me boys.

 A                                 E
As a child in my cradle, the nurse from her ladle

D              A            E
Was swillin' her mouth with the notion of pep.

A                           E
When a drop from her bottle fell into me throttle,

D               A             E          A
I capered, and scrambled right out of her lap.

A                               E
On the floor I lay crawlin', and screamin', and bawlin'

D                A            E
Till Father and Mother soon came to the fore.

A                                   E
Conceived I lay dying, all wailing, and crying,

          D            A          E        A
They found I was only a-cryin' for more.

A                            E
Then stick to the cratur the best thing in nature

D                A            E
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys.

A                         E
Oh Lord, how I'd chuckle if babes in their truckle

D              A           E         A
Could only be suckled on poteen me boys.

 A                                 E
Through youthful digressions and times of depression,

D              A            E
My childhood impression still clung to me mind.

A                           E
In school and in college, the basis of knowledge

D               A             E          A
I never could gulp 'til with whiskey combined.

A                               E
Now as older I'm growin', time's ever bestowin'

D                A            E
On Erin's potation a flavour so fine,

A                                   E
And how e're they may lecture on Jove and his nectar,

          D            A          E        A
Itself is the only true liquid devine.

A                            E
Then stick to the cratur the best thing in nature

D                A            E
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys.

A                         E
Oh Lord, it's the right thing for courtin' and fightin'.

D              A           E         A
There's naught so exiting as poteen me boys.

 A                                 E
Come guess me this riddle: What beats pipes and fiddle?

D              A            E
What's hotter than mustard, and milder than cream?

A                           E
What best wets your whistle? What's clearer than crystal,

D               A             E          A
Smoother than honey, and stronger than steam?

A                               E
What'll make the dumb talk? What'll make the lame walk -

D                A            E
The elixir of life and philosopher's stone?

A                                   E
And what helped Mr. Brunell to dig the Thames tunnel?

          D            A          E        A
Wasn't it poteen me boys from old Innishowen?

A                            E
Then stick to the cratur the best thing in nature

D                A            E
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys.

A                         E
Oh, Lord knows I wonder if lighting and thunder

D              A           E         A
Was made from the plunder of poteen me boys.