Irish Songs Lyrics With Guitar Chords By Martin Dardis

Paddy ''Bones'' Sweeney

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Paddy ''Bones'' Sweeney Song Lyrics And Chords. Written by Paddy Tinsley as a tribute to Paddy Bones Sweeney, the father of Paddy from The Dublin City Ramblers. Key of F [Capo up 3 in D]. recorded at Torsten Harder hofgut dürrenbühl, also included on the album is Susanne Sievers on accordion, fiddle and vocals. Album title High Time by Swinging On The Gate. My tribute to a good friend, a unique and one of the best Buskers I’ve ever met. He became popularly known as “Paddy Bones” because he played the bones and harmonica together at the same time.

[D]By the banks of the [G]still water ca[D]nal
A young boy [Em]listened and gazed in [A]awe
the [D]sound and a[G]ppearance of mus[D]icians
The [A]jigs the reels the [G]ballads and the [D]crack
'Twas in Dublin [G]town he was en[D]chanted
By the buskers who [Em]played on the [A]street
At the [D]age of six[G]teen he chose the [D]road
A [A]buskers life of [G]freedom to live his [D]dreams
Chorus:
[A]Paddy ''Bones'' Sweeney was a [G]ramblin' [A]man
With a [D]heart that had [G]yearned to be [D]free
[A]Paddy ''Bones'' Sweeneys [G]music lives [A]on
Still [D]echoes every[G]where he once [D]played

An old bicycle was his first transport
By nights he slept in a wattle tent
Then in later years a horse drawn caravan
Was his home on the roads he loved to roam

With harmonica and a pair a bones
He entertained to his hearts content
The people who would generously contribute
To a busker they could tell knew his trade

Well 'tis many years since I first met him
An agein' man younger than his years
We spent the day engrossed in playin' music
While lashin' back pints of stout in old McDaids

There he told me he'd settled in Dublin
How life on the road became to hard
And with saddened heart he spoke of the changes
How tradition would soon be forgotten

He remembered well the cross roads dancin'
How the people would all gather there
And the drovers and the dealers at the fairs
Where he enjoyed the buskin' most of all
Other times he'd talk about the old ones

Banjo Harry, Mick The Whistle, The Blind Mice
How they'd all meet up at fairs or race meetin's
With Margret Barry and play mighty tunes
The last time I met him he was eager

To hit the road one last time I guessed
I wished him the best of luck as we parted
Now I hope his ramblin' spirit has found rest.

   
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