Chords for Whisky on a Sunday
Tempo:
118.65 bpm
Chords used:
C#
F#
G#m
D#
B
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
There was a fella many years ago who had a lovely theatre up in Dublin and it was very
similar to this.
So this is the turn of the last century.
And he had great business going.
He used to run puppet shows.
It was just like what you'd call like Eugene Lambert.
They run these lovely puppet shows.
And he took to the drink and after a while he lost everything.
They knocked down the theatre and he managed [B] to salvage a few little puppets, a few bits
of string [F#] and some paint, some wood.
He ended up working his little theatre from the side of the street.
And the people going by used to throw him a couple of pence.
Every weekend he'd treat himself to a half a bottle of Jemisin 10.
He'd give himself a good old treat.
So the story anyway has an air to it and I wonder he is all singing with me tonight.
Here's the chorus.
Mmm, [C#] [D#] Monday [G#m] go day, [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
[D#] Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [C#] Sunday.
[F#] Well he sits on the corner [G#m] of Beggar's Bush, [C#] a stride on an old packing [F#]
[C#] case.
[F#] And the dolls on the end of [G#m] the blank were dancing as [C#] he crooned with a smile on [F#] his face.
[C#] Mmm, [D#] Monday [G#m] go day, [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week and [C#] whiskey on the Sunday.
His tired old hands drove [G#m] the wooden beam [C#] and the puppets they danced up [F#] and down.
A far better show than [G#m] you ever would see, was [C#] the fanciest theatre in [F#] town.
[D#] Mmm, Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me heart it [F#] was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday.
But in 1902, [G#m] old Sad Davey died [C#] and his song, it was heard no more.
The [F#] three dancing dolls in [G#m] the dustbin were thrown and the [C#] plank went to mend the back [F#] door.
Mmm,
[D#] Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
[C#] [D#] Mmm, drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey [F#] on the Sunday.
It's a stormy night when [G#m] you're passing that way, [C#] with the wind blowing up [F#] from the sea.
You can still hear the song [G#m] of old Sad Davey [C#] as he croons to his dancing [F#] dolls dream.
Mmm, [D#]
[G#m] Monday go day, [C#] I wish in [F#] me [D#]
heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday.
[D#] Mmm, [G#m] Monday go day, I wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#]
drinking [G#] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [B] Sunday.
[F#] [F]
similar to this.
So this is the turn of the last century.
And he had great business going.
He used to run puppet shows.
It was just like what you'd call like Eugene Lambert.
They run these lovely puppet shows.
And he took to the drink and after a while he lost everything.
They knocked down the theatre and he managed [B] to salvage a few little puppets, a few bits
of string [F#] and some paint, some wood.
He ended up working his little theatre from the side of the street.
And the people going by used to throw him a couple of pence.
Every weekend he'd treat himself to a half a bottle of Jemisin 10.
He'd give himself a good old treat.
So the story anyway has an air to it and I wonder he is all singing with me tonight.
Here's the chorus.
Mmm, [C#] [D#] Monday [G#m] go day, [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
[D#] Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [C#] Sunday.
[F#] Well he sits on the corner [G#m] of Beggar's Bush, [C#] a stride on an old packing [F#]
[C#] case.
[F#] And the dolls on the end of [G#m] the blank were dancing as [C#] he crooned with a smile on [F#] his face.
[C#] Mmm, [D#] Monday [G#m] go day, [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week and [C#] whiskey on the Sunday.
His tired old hands drove [G#m] the wooden beam [C#] and the puppets they danced up [F#] and down.
A far better show than [G#m] you ever would see, was [C#] the fanciest theatre in [F#] town.
[D#] Mmm, Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me heart it [F#] was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday.
But in 1902, [G#m] old Sad Davey died [C#] and his song, it was heard no more.
The [F#] three dancing dolls in [G#m] the dustbin were thrown and the [C#] plank went to mend the back [F#] door.
Mmm,
[D#] Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
[C#] [D#] Mmm, drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey [F#] on the Sunday.
It's a stormy night when [G#m] you're passing that way, [C#] with the wind blowing up [F#] from the sea.
You can still hear the song [G#m] of old Sad Davey [C#] as he croons to his dancing [F#] dolls dream.
Mmm, [D#]
[G#m] Monday go day, [C#] I wish in [F#] me [D#]
heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday.
[D#] Mmm, [G#m] Monday go day, I wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#]
drinking [G#] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [B] Sunday.
[F#] [F]
Key:
C#
F#
G#m
D#
B
C#
F#
G#m
_ There was a fella many years ago who had a lovely theatre up in Dublin and it was very
similar to this.
So this is the turn of the last century.
And he had great business going.
He used to run puppet shows.
It was just like what you'd call like Eugene Lambert.
They run these lovely puppet shows.
And he took to the drink and after a while he lost everything.
They knocked down the theatre and he managed [B] to salvage a few little puppets, a few bits
of string [F#] and some paint, some wood.
He ended up working his little theatre from the side of the street.
_ And the people going by used to throw him a couple of pence.
Every weekend he'd treat himself to a half a bottle of Jemisin 10.
He'd give himself a good old treat.
So the story anyway has _ an air to it and I wonder he is all singing with me tonight.
Here's the chorus.
Mmm, [C#] _ [D#] _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, _ [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
[D#] Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [C#] Sunday.
[F#] Well he sits on the corner [G#m] of Beggar's Bush, [C#] a stride on an old packing [F#] _
[C#] case.
[F#] And the dolls on the end of [G#m] the blank were dancing as [C#] he crooned with a smile on [F#] his face.
[C#] Mmm, [D#] _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week and [C#] whiskey on the Sunday.
His tired old hands drove [G#m] the wooden beam [C#] and the puppets they danced up [F#] and down. _
A far better show than [G#m] you ever would see, was [C#] the fanciest theatre in [F#] town. _
[D#] Mmm, _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me heart it [F#] was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] _ drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday. _
But in _ 1902, [G#m] old Sad Davey died [C#] and his song, it was heard no more.
The [F#] three dancing dolls in [G#m] the dustbin were thrown and the [C#] plank went to mend the back [F#] door.
Mmm, _
[D#] _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
[C#] _ [D#] Mmm, drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey [F#] on the Sunday.
_ It's a stormy night when [G#m] you're passing that way, [C#] with the wind blowing up [F#] from the sea.
You _ can still hear the song [G#m] of old Sad Davey [C#] as he croons to his dancing [F#] dolls dream.
Mmm, [D#] _ _
_ [G#m] Monday go day, [C#] I wish in [F#] _ me _ [D#] _
heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday.
_ _ [D#] Mmm, _ [G#m] Monday go day, I wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] _
drinking [G#] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [B] Sunday.
_ [F#] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [F] _ _ _ _ _ _
similar to this.
So this is the turn of the last century.
And he had great business going.
He used to run puppet shows.
It was just like what you'd call like Eugene Lambert.
They run these lovely puppet shows.
And he took to the drink and after a while he lost everything.
They knocked down the theatre and he managed [B] to salvage a few little puppets, a few bits
of string [F#] and some paint, some wood.
He ended up working his little theatre from the side of the street.
_ And the people going by used to throw him a couple of pence.
Every weekend he'd treat himself to a half a bottle of Jemisin 10.
He'd give himself a good old treat.
So the story anyway has _ an air to it and I wonder he is all singing with me tonight.
Here's the chorus.
Mmm, [C#] _ [D#] _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, _ [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
[D#] Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [C#] Sunday.
[F#] Well he sits on the corner [G#m] of Beggar's Bush, [C#] a stride on an old packing [F#] _
[C#] case.
[F#] And the dolls on the end of [G#m] the blank were dancing as [C#] he crooned with a smile on [F#] his face.
[C#] Mmm, [D#] _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, [C#] I wish in me heart [F#] it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week and [C#] whiskey on the Sunday.
His tired old hands drove [G#m] the wooden beam [C#] and the puppets they danced up [F#] and down. _
A far better show than [G#m] you ever would see, was [C#] the fanciest theatre in [F#] town. _
[D#] Mmm, _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me heart it [F#] was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] _ drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday. _
But in _ 1902, [G#m] old Sad Davey died [C#] and his song, it was heard no more.
The [F#] three dancing dolls in [G#m] the dustbin were thrown and the [C#] plank went to mend the back [F#] door.
Mmm, _
[D#] _ _ Monday [G#m] go day, I [C#] wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
[C#] _ [D#] Mmm, drinking buttermilk [G#m] all the week [C#] and whiskey [F#] on the Sunday.
_ It's a stormy night when [G#m] you're passing that way, [C#] with the wind blowing up [F#] from the sea.
You _ can still hear the song [G#m] of old Sad Davey [C#] as he croons to his dancing [F#] dolls dream.
Mmm, [D#] _ _
_ [G#m] Monday go day, [C#] I wish in [F#] _ me _ [D#] _
heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, drinking [G#m] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the Sunday.
_ _ [D#] Mmm, _ [G#m] Monday go day, I wish in me [F#] heart it was Sunday.
Mmm, [D#] _
drinking [G#] buttermilk all the week [C#] and whiskey on [F#] the [B] Sunday.
_ [F#] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [F] _ _ _ _ _ _