Irish Songs With Easy Chords & Lyrics
Gilderoy
| Em | G | Em | Am |
The | last, the | dreaded | hour is | come, |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
That | bears my | love from | me | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
I | hear the | dead note | of the | drum, |
| Am | D | Em |
I | mark the | fatal | tree. |
| G | D | Am | D |
The | bell has | toll'd; it | shakes my | heart; |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
The | trumpet | speaks thy | name: | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
And | must my | Gilde | roy de | part, |
| Am | D | Em |
To | bear a | death of | shame! |
| Em | G | Em | Am |
No | bosom | trembles | for thy | doom; |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
No | mourner | wipes a | tear; | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
The | gallows' | foot is | all they | tomb, |
| Am | D | Em |
The | sledge is | all thy | bier. |
| G | D | Am | D |
Oh | Gilde | roy! I be | thought we | then |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
So | soon, so | sad to | part, | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
When | first in | Roslin's | lovely | glen |
| Am | D | Em |
You | triumph'd | o'er my | heart? |
| Em | G | Em | Am |
Your | locks they | glitter'd | to the | sheen, |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
Your | hunter | garb was | trim; | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
And | graceful | was the | ribbon | green, |
| Am | D | Em |
That | bound your | many | limb! |
| G | D | Am | D |
Ah! | little | thought I | to de | plore |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
Those | limbs in | fetters | bound; | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
Or | hear, u | pon the | scaffold | floor, |
| Am | D | Em |
The | midnight | hammer | sound. |
| Em | G | Em | Am |
Ye | cruel, | cruel, | that com | bined |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
The | guiltless | to pur | sue; | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
My | Gilde | roy was | ever | kind, |
| Am | D | Em |
He | could not | injure | you! |
| G | D | Am | D |
A | long a | dieu! but | where shall | fly |
| Em | G | Em | G |
When | ev'ry | mean and | cruel | eye |
| Am | D | Em |
Re | gards my | wo with | scorn? |
| Em | G | Em | Am |
Yes! | they will | mock thy | widow's | tears, |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
And | hate thine | orphan | boy; | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
A | las! his | infant | beauty | wears |
| Am | D | Em |
The | form of | Gilde | roy. |
| G | D | Am | D |
Then | will I | seek the | dreary | mound |
| G | Am | D | D7 |
That | wraps thy | mouldering | clay, | |
| Em | G | Em | G |
And | weep and | linger | on the | ground, |
| Am | D | Em |
And | sigh my | heart a | way. |
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