Aisling Christy Moore
S[C]ee the bright new moon is rising,
A[F]bove the land of bl[C]ack and [G]green
H[C]ear the rebels voices calling,
I wi[F]ll not d[C]ie 'till you bu[G]ry m[C]e
The au[C]nt upstairs in the b[F]ed she is cal[C]ling,
Wh[F]y has he fors[C]aken [G]me
Fad[C]ed pictures i[F]n the hal[C]lway,
Whi[F]ch one of th[C]em brown gho[G]sts is h[C]e
Bl[C]ess the wind that shakes the barley,
Cu[F]rse the spade and cu[C]rse the pl[G]ough
I'[C]ve counted years and we[F]eks and d[C]ays,
And I wi[F]sh to G[C]od I was wi[G]th you n[C]ow
F[C]are thee well me bla[F]ck-haired diamond,
F[C]are thee well me own Ais[G]ling
A[C]t night fo[F]nd dreams of y[C]ou still ha[F]unt me,
F[C]ar acr[F]oss the gre[G]y north s[C]ea
And the w[F]ind it blows from the N[G]orth and South,
T[F]o the East And to the We[G]st
I w[F]ill be like the wi[G]nd my love,
For[F] I will know no re[Am]st 'ti[C]ll I re[F]turn t[G]o th[C]ee
[Am]1, 2, 3 telegraph poles,
Stan[F]ding on the co[G]ld black ro[Am]ad
The night is fading into morning,
G[F]ive us a drop of your swe[G]et po[Am]itin
The ra[Am]in was lashing - the sun was rising,
The wi[F]nd was howling thro[G]ugh the tr[Am]ees
The madness from the mountains crawling,
When I[F] saw you fi[G]rst my own Ais[Am]ling
Bl[C]ess the wind that shakes the barley,
Cu[F]rse the spade and cu[C]rse the pl[G]ough
I'[C]ve counted years and we[F]eks and d[C]ays,
And I wi[F]sh to G[C]od I was wi[G]th you n[C]ow
F[C]are thee well me bla[F]ck-haired diamond,
F[C]are thee well me own Ais[G]ling
A[C]t night fo[F]nd dreams of y[C]ou still ha[F]unt me,
F[C]ar acr[F]oss the gre[G]y north s[C]ea
Lots of Love,
Bart
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