The Irish Rovers – Whiskey On A Sunday (Guitar)

F#        B      E                          A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday

F#                  B              E            A           
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday

A                          B
He sits on the corner, of 'ol beggars bush, 

E                        A
On top of an old packing crate

                                   B
He has three wooden dolls that can dance and can sing

       E                          A
And he croons with a smile on his face

F#        B      E                          A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday

F#                  B              E            A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday

A                        B
His tired old hands, tug away at the strings

        E                         A
And the puppets they dance up and down

                           B
A far better show than you ever would see

       E                   A
In the fanciest theatre in town

F#       B       E                          A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday

F#                  B              E            A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday

A                          B
I'm sad to relate that old Seth Davy died,

    E                    A
 In Nineteen Hundred and Four

                              B
The three wooden dolls in the dustbin were laid

    E                       A
His song will be heard nevermore

F#       B        E                         A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday

F#                  B              E            A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday

                                 B
And some stormy night, when your passing that way

        E                          A
And the wind's blowing up from the sea

                              B
You'll still hear the song of old Seth Davy

      E                           A
As he croons to his dancing dolls three

F#       B        E                         A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday

F#                  B              E            A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday