Solas – Michael Conway chords

Chords:
Transpose:
[Capo on II]


G G/B Em COh my name is Michael Conway, in old Ireland I was born
G G/B C DNear the lake of Cloonacolly on a bright summer's morn
G C G/B CBut soon came cruel winter to break and scatter my poor home
G C G D GSoon came the harsh day that forced me to roam.
G G/B Em CWell I reached old Philadelphia in the brave land of the free
G G/B C DWhere I met with my two brothers; There was Pat, James, and me
G C G/B CWe were destined for the rich land fate owes us all from birth
G C G D GWe were bound for Butte, Montana, the richest hill on earth
C C G GWhere their pockets they bulge heavy, when copper's running high
C C Em DWhere the hill rewards her brave sons, it's fortune or die
G G/B Em CWhere they tread on silver dollars on the crowded barroom floor
G C G D GWhile they strip the granite mountain of her precious copper ore.
G G/B Em Well we leaped down off that steam train, and stepped out into the yellow
Cmist
G G/B C DWith holes still in our hearts then, and a fight in either fist
G C G/B CNo kind face to lead us up to where the dirty smelter spat
G C G D GAnd it's there I took to hard labor as a Butte mining rat
C C G GWhere we trade the hours of daylight for the smell of copper ore,
C C Em DWhere it's whiskey and the cow pats to cure our copper sores
G G/B Em CWhere half the town it labors while the other half it sleeps
G C G D GWhere upon the granite mountain, a mile high and deep.
[Break--same as chorus]
G G/B Em COh they know me down in Dogtown, bare knuckle I would go
G G/B C DFor there's not a man could best me while standing toe to toe
G C G/B CBut I defied the crooked sheriff, for I wouldn't throw his fight away
G C G D GHe should have laid it on at 5 to 2, and backed the bold Conway
G G/B Em CI was lifted in Con Peoples, with the beer and music flowing free
G G/B C DWhere my brothers had just left me, Oh bad fortune for me
G C G/B CDragged out by crooked cowards, their batons knocked me off my feet
G C G D GAnd they left me to die there, like a dog in the street.
C C G GFar from the Anaconda, the mine with seven stacks
C C Em DFar from the ashen faces of young men with crooked backs
G G/B Em CFar from the granite mountain and the dusty grave in which I lie
G C G D GMy spirit chases starlings 'round a clear Mayo sky.
(outro) C G D G
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