William Bloat --- Raymond Colville Calvert/arr. Tommy Makem.
In a [D]mean
abode on the [D6]Shankhill Road
Lived a [D]man
named [A7]William [D]Bloat.
And he [G]had
a wife, the [D]bane of his life,
Who always got his [A7]goat.
And one [D]day
at dawn, with her [G]night-dress on,
He [D]slit
her [A7]bloody [D]throat.
Now [D]he
was glad that he’d [D6]done what he had,
As she [D]lay
there [A7]stiff and [D]still.
‘Til [G]suddenly
awe of the [D]angry law
Filled his soul with an
awful [A7]chill.
And to [D]finish
the fun, so [G]well begun,
He de-[D]cided
him-[A7]self to [D]kill.
Then he [D]took
the sheet from his [D6]wife’s cold feet,
And he [D]twisted
it [A7]into a [D]rope.
And he [G]hanged
himself from the [D]pantry shelf ---
‘Twas an easy end, let’s [A7]hope.
With his [D]dying
breath, and he [G]facing death,
He [D]solemnly
[A7]cursed the [D]Pope.
But the [D]strangest
turn of the [D6]whole concern
Is [D]only
[A7]just be-[D]ginnin’.
He [G]went
to Hell but his [D]wife got well,
And she’s still alive and [A7]sinnin’.
For the [D]razor
blade was [G]German-made ---
But the [D]rope
was [A7]Belfast [D]linen!