Chords for Hobbit Drinking Medley - Peter Hollens feat. Hank Green!!
Tempo:
124.6 bpm
Chords used:
C#
B
F#
A
G#
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
Oh, you can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry,
But you'll never find a beer so brown, you'll never find a beer so brown,
As the one we drink in our hometown, as the one we drink [D#] in our hometown.
[F#m] You can keep your fancy ales, [B] you can drink them by the wagon,
And the only brew for [E] the brave and true, [A] comes from the green dragon.
[D] [G] Hey, ho to the bottle I [Bm] go, to heal my heart and drown my woe,
Rain may fall and wind may [B] blow, there'll still [D] be many miles to go.
[C#] Sweet is the sound of the pouring [A] rain, and the stream that falls [D] from the hill to plain,
[A] Better than a rain or a rippling [Bm] brook, is the mug [A] of beer inside [Dm] this tuk.
[G#]
[A] Blunt the knives, bend the fork, smash the bottles and [F] burn the corks,
Strip the glasses and pack the [D#] plates, that's what Bill the [C#] Wagon tastes.
Cut the cloth, thread the [B] band, leave the cloths on the [A#] bedroom [C#] mat,
Pour the milk on the [F#] pantry floor, [A#m]
[G#] smash the wine on [C#] every door,
Dump the crocks in the boiling bowl, pound them up with [A#m] a thumping bowl,
And when you're finished, [F#] you pay a haul, [F] send them down the halter [C#]-haul.
Boy, what a good haul, [A#m]
[C#] [F#]
[A#] that's what Bill the Wagon [B] tastes.
There's a noon, there's a merry old dame, beneath the old grey hill,
[C#] And there they brew a beer so [B] brown, the man the mover [F#] himself came down one night to drink his [C#] fill.
[A] Oh, the oyster [Bm] had a tipsy cat, [F#] the fleas that by his drink filled him,
[B] And up and down he [F#] saws his bone, now squeaky high, now purring low, [C#] now stalling in the [Bm] middle.
So, the cat on his [G] fiddle played, hey diddle [C#m] diddle, a dreary cow would [D] wake the dead,
He [B] squeaked and he sired and he [F#] creaked and dirt grew, while the landlord shook, while the man in the moon,
It's after [G] three, he said, [Cm] now quick at the fiddle, when Peter's on the [G] fiddle, dawn began to roar,
The cows and the [Fm] horses stood on their [F] heads, the guests all bowed it from their beds, and danced [G#] upon the floor.
The [C#m] round room rolled behind the hill, [G#] the sun raised up their head,
[D#] She hardly believed her fiery eye, the wind [Am] was dame to [G#] her surprise,
But you'll never find a beer so brown, you'll never find a beer so brown,
As the one we drink in our hometown, as the one we drink [D#] in our hometown.
[F#m] You can keep your fancy ales, [B] you can drink them by the wagon,
And the only brew for [E] the brave and true, [A] comes from the green dragon.
[D] [G] Hey, ho to the bottle I [Bm] go, to heal my heart and drown my woe,
Rain may fall and wind may [B] blow, there'll still [D] be many miles to go.
[C#] Sweet is the sound of the pouring [A] rain, and the stream that falls [D] from the hill to plain,
[A] Better than a rain or a rippling [Bm] brook, is the mug [A] of beer inside [Dm] this tuk.
[G#]
[A] Blunt the knives, bend the fork, smash the bottles and [F] burn the corks,
Strip the glasses and pack the [D#] plates, that's what Bill the [C#] Wagon tastes.
Cut the cloth, thread the [B] band, leave the cloths on the [A#] bedroom [C#] mat,
Pour the milk on the [F#] pantry floor, [A#m]
[G#] smash the wine on [C#] every door,
Dump the crocks in the boiling bowl, pound them up with [A#m] a thumping bowl,
And when you're finished, [F#] you pay a haul, [F] send them down the halter [C#]-haul.
Boy, what a good haul, [A#m]
[C#] [F#]
[A#] that's what Bill the Wagon [B] tastes.
There's a noon, there's a merry old dame, beneath the old grey hill,
[C#] And there they brew a beer so [B] brown, the man the mover [F#] himself came down one night to drink his [C#] fill.
[A] Oh, the oyster [Bm] had a tipsy cat, [F#] the fleas that by his drink filled him,
[B] And up and down he [F#] saws his bone, now squeaky high, now purring low, [C#] now stalling in the [Bm] middle.
So, the cat on his [G] fiddle played, hey diddle [C#m] diddle, a dreary cow would [D] wake the dead,
He [B] squeaked and he sired and he [F#] creaked and dirt grew, while the landlord shook, while the man in the moon,
It's after [G] three, he said, [Cm] now quick at the fiddle, when Peter's on the [G] fiddle, dawn began to roar,
The cows and the [Fm] horses stood on their [F] heads, the guests all bowed it from their beds, and danced [G#] upon the floor.
The [C#m] round room rolled behind the hill, [G#] the sun raised up their head,
[D#] She hardly believed her fiery eye, the wind [Am] was dame to [G#] her surprise,
Key:
C#
B
F#
A
G#
C#
B
F#
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ Oh, you can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry,
But you'll never find a beer so brown, you'll never find a beer so brown,
As the one we drink in our hometown, as the one we drink [D#] in our hometown.
_ [F#m] You can keep your fancy ales, [B] you can drink them by the wagon,
And the only brew for [E] the brave and true, _ [A] _ comes from the green dragon. _
[D] [G] Hey, ho to the bottle I [Bm] go, to heal my heart and drown my woe,
Rain may fall and wind may [B] blow, there'll still [D] be many miles to go.
[C#] Sweet is the sound of the pouring [A] rain, and the stream that falls [D] from the hill to plain,
[A] Better than a rain or a rippling [Bm] brook, is the mug [A] of beer inside [Dm] this tuk. _ _
[G#] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [A] Blunt the knives, bend the fork, smash the bottles and [F] burn the corks,
Strip the glasses and pack the [D#] plates, that's what Bill the [C#] Wagon tastes.
Cut the cloth, thread the [B] band, leave the cloths on the [A#] bedroom [C#] mat,
Pour the milk on the [F#] pantry floor, [A#m] _ _
_ [G#] smash the wine on [C#] every door,
Dump the crocks in the boiling bowl, pound them up with [A#m] a thumping bowl,
And when you're finished, [F#] you pay a haul, _ [F] send them down the halter [C#]-haul.
Boy, what a good haul, [A#m] _ _ _ _
_ [C#] _ _ [F#] _ _ _ _ _
[A#] that's what Bill the Wagon [B] tastes. _ _ _
_ _ There's a noon, there's a merry old dame, beneath the old grey hill,
[C#] And there they brew a beer so [B] brown, the man the mover [F#] himself came down one night to drink his [C#] fill.
[A] Oh, the oyster [Bm] had a tipsy cat, [F#] the fleas that by his drink filled him,
[B] And up and down he [F#] saws his bone, now squeaky high, _ now purring low, _ _ _ [C#] now stalling in the [Bm] middle.
So, the cat on his [G] fiddle played, hey diddle [C#m] diddle, a dreary cow would [D] wake the dead,
He [B] squeaked and he sired and he [F#] creaked and dirt grew, while the landlord shook, while the man in the moon,
It's after [G] three, he said, [Cm] now quick at the fiddle, when Peter's on the [G] fiddle, dawn began to roar,
The cows and the [Fm] horses stood on their [F] heads, the guests all bowed it from their beds, and danced [G#] upon the floor.
The [C#m] round room rolled behind the hill, [G#] the sun raised up their head,
[D#] She hardly believed her fiery eye, the wind [Am] was dame to [G#] her surprise, _
_ _ Oh, you can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry,
But you'll never find a beer so brown, you'll never find a beer so brown,
As the one we drink in our hometown, as the one we drink [D#] in our hometown.
_ [F#m] You can keep your fancy ales, [B] you can drink them by the wagon,
And the only brew for [E] the brave and true, _ [A] _ comes from the green dragon. _
[D] [G] Hey, ho to the bottle I [Bm] go, to heal my heart and drown my woe,
Rain may fall and wind may [B] blow, there'll still [D] be many miles to go.
[C#] Sweet is the sound of the pouring [A] rain, and the stream that falls [D] from the hill to plain,
[A] Better than a rain or a rippling [Bm] brook, is the mug [A] of beer inside [Dm] this tuk. _ _
[G#] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [A] Blunt the knives, bend the fork, smash the bottles and [F] burn the corks,
Strip the glasses and pack the [D#] plates, that's what Bill the [C#] Wagon tastes.
Cut the cloth, thread the [B] band, leave the cloths on the [A#] bedroom [C#] mat,
Pour the milk on the [F#] pantry floor, [A#m] _ _
_ [G#] smash the wine on [C#] every door,
Dump the crocks in the boiling bowl, pound them up with [A#m] a thumping bowl,
And when you're finished, [F#] you pay a haul, _ [F] send them down the halter [C#]-haul.
Boy, what a good haul, [A#m] _ _ _ _
_ [C#] _ _ [F#] _ _ _ _ _
[A#] that's what Bill the Wagon [B] tastes. _ _ _
_ _ There's a noon, there's a merry old dame, beneath the old grey hill,
[C#] And there they brew a beer so [B] brown, the man the mover [F#] himself came down one night to drink his [C#] fill.
[A] Oh, the oyster [Bm] had a tipsy cat, [F#] the fleas that by his drink filled him,
[B] And up and down he [F#] saws his bone, now squeaky high, _ now purring low, _ _ _ [C#] now stalling in the [Bm] middle.
So, the cat on his [G] fiddle played, hey diddle [C#m] diddle, a dreary cow would [D] wake the dead,
He [B] squeaked and he sired and he [F#] creaked and dirt grew, while the landlord shook, while the man in the moon,
It's after [G] three, he said, [Cm] now quick at the fiddle, when Peter's on the [G] fiddle, dawn began to roar,
The cows and the [Fm] horses stood on their [F] heads, the guests all bowed it from their beds, and danced [G#] upon the floor.
The [C#m] round room rolled behind the hill, [G#] the sun raised up their head,
[D#] She hardly believed her fiery eye, the wind [Am] was dame to [G#] her surprise, _