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!


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