“The Black Matilda” by The Rumjacks on their album “Gangs of New Holland”
Tabs by Bradhitsbass
Verse
By the w
indy shores o’ Canada bay I br
oke my fast for Lucia’s day,
A beguiling figure she blew my away & rattled me rovin’ heart,
The sn
ipers crack, the metronome of pr
icy heels on polished stone,
Am (mute)
That I were soon to call my own by way o’ the ancient art.
Verse
I were
cozened by a whiff-o-the-whim that sc
ours the Costa harryin’,
The li
kes o’ men who’ve lost the lamp, the rudderless and bewildered,
The san
ds below are littered wi’bones o’t
hose whove taken a belly o’stones,
And tu
rned their backs on wives & homes to follow the black Matilda.
Chorus
Ho-ro m’lovelies cross yer
hearts & hope to die,
If e’er ye’re drawn beneath a murky fa
thom of her eye,
Ho-ro m’lovelies kiss yer a
rse a fond goodbye,
Ye’ll never again be able to lift yer h
ead so bloody high.
For even the b
oys of Inverary know, from T
ortuga to Jericho,
She
took three hundred souls below off the deck o’ the Andalusia,
The p
oets and the Sages tried to w
arn us down the ages,
Their b
lood drips from the pages where they tell o’ the Black Matilda.
Verse
She pu
rsed her lips & spun a tune as f
ine as any silk cocoon,
That’s e
ver left McEacherns loom & held me there in a tawper,
A ba
stard I was born y’ken? I li
ved as tho’ I’d never end,
I’ll d
ie a disenchanted man, they’ll bury me as a pauper,
Verse
For me
n have drowned & men have swung, the br
ig at Iron Cove were hung,
Wi’ a
garland of the old, the young, all battered & unfamiliar,
Th
ere’s no poetry theres no tune, no p
oint in howlin’ at the moon,
A c
aution to ye very soon ye’ll waltz yer Black Matilda.
Chorus
Ho-ro m’lovelies cross yer
hearts & hope to die,
If e’er ye’re drawn beneath a murky fat
hom of her eye,
Ho-ro m’lovelies kiss yer a
rse a fond goodbye,
Ye’ll never again be able to lift yer h
ead so bloody high.
For even the b
oys of Inverary know, from T
ortuga to Jericho,
She
took three hundred souls below off the deck o’ the Andalusia,
The p
oets and the Sages tried to w
arn us down the ages,
Their b
lood drips from the pages where they tell o’ the Black Matilda.
Verse
By the w
indy shores o Canada bay I bro
ke my fast for Lucia’s day,
A beguiling figure she blew my away & rattled me rovin’ heart,
The sn
ipers crack, the metronome of pr
icy heels on polished stone,
Am (mute)
That I were soon to call my own by way o’ the ancient art.
Chorus
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, cross yer h
earts & hope to die,
Its e
nough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, kiss yer ar
se a fond goodbye,
Its e
nough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, cross yer h
earts & hope to die,
Its e
nough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Ho-Ro m’lovelies, kiss yer ar
se a fond goodbye,
It’s
enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Am (let ring)
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye cry,
Enough to make ye cry, enough to make ye die,
