The Dubliners – The Pool Song (Guitar)

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C                          Am
May the Lord upon high who rules the sky

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Look down on our pubs and bars

C                         Am
And the women and men all seated within

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Neglecting their pints and their jars

C                        Am
The craic it is bad, the atmosphere sad

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Every man has a face like a mule

C                       Am
For all he can do is to grab an old cue

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And start playing that game of pool

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Well, when I was a boy it was always me joy

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To go to the pub each night

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There were arguments scraps and killings perhaps

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And everyone thought he was right

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There were badgers and dogs, and men from the bogs

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And young fellows acting the tool

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But now there's no crack, for everyman Jack

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Has his arse in the air playing pool

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To the local ale house after milking the cows

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Every customer made his way

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And there he would dwell and drink till he fell

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While the fiddles and pipes they did play

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The jigs and the reels, the rattling of heels

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Polkas and slides were the rule

C                          Am
But now there's no chance of a tune or a dance

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For everyone's playing the ould pool

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Well, this pool you will find is a game designed

F                G        C
For foolish illiterate louts

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You push in four bob and you pull an old knob

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And a big shower of balls they come out

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They're placed on a table and then if you're able

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To knock them all into a hole

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More money goes in, you start over again

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And you lose every bob of your dole

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Now in the Irish Free State, all the people are bate

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From watching and playing this game

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In their necks they have cricks, that no doctor could fix

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And their backs and their shoulders are maimed

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Their arses protrude in a manner most lewd

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From being hoisted aloft in the air

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And their eyeballs are sore, and dripping in gore

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And they act in a manner most quare

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So if you meet a young man, who's face it is wan

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And his eyes have a vacant stare

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His jawbone is slack, and his head is thrown back

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And he can't tell a cob from a mare

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His nostrils dilated, his brow corrugated

F                  G        C
His manners like those of a fool

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On your shirt you can bet, that you have just met

F                  G             C
A man that's gone plain mad from pool