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Solas – Michael Conway chords
[Capo on II]G G/B Em COh my name is Michael Conway, in old Ireland I was bornG G/B C DNear the lake of Cloonacolly on a bright summer's mornG C G/B CBut soon came cruel winter to break and scatter my poor homeG 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 freeG G/B C DWhere I met with my two brothers; There was Pat, James, and meG C G/B CWe were destined for the rich land fate owes us all from birthG C G D GWe were bound for Butte, Montana, the richest hill on earthC C G GWhere their pockets they bulge heavy, when copper's running highC C Em DWhere the hill rewards her brave sons, it's fortune or dieG G/B Em CWhere they tread on silver dollars on the crowded barroom floorG 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 yellowCmistG G/B C DWith holes still in our hearts then, and a fight in either fistG C G/B CNo kind face to lead us up to where the dirty smelter spatG C G D GAnd it's there I took to hard labor as a Butte mining ratC 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 soresG G/B Em CWhere half the town it labors while the other half it sleepsG 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 goG G/B C DFor there's not a man could best me while standing toe to toeG C G/B CBut I defied the crooked sheriff, for I wouldn't throw his fight awayG C G D GHe should have laid it on at 5 to 2, and backed the bold ConwayG G/B Em CI was lifted in Con Peoples, with the beer and music flowing freeG G/B C DWhere my brothers had just left me, Oh bad fortune for meG C G/B CDragged out by crooked cowards, their batons knocked me off my feetG 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 stacksC C Em DFar from the ashen faces of young men with crooked backsG G/B Em CFar from the granite mountain and the dusty grave in which I lieG C G D GMy spirit chases starlings 'round a clear Mayo sky.(outro) C G D G