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The Dubliners – Hot Asphalt

The Dubliners
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исполнитель The Dubliners

правообладатель Sanctuary Records

длительность 00:30

размер 8.42 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено Warner Music Group

Hot Asphalt
00:30
Good evening, all my jolly lads, I'm glad to find you well If you'll gather all around me, now, the story I will tell For I've got a situation and begorrah and begob I can whisper all the weekly wage of nineteen bob 'Tis twelve months come October since I left me native home After helping them Killarney boys to bring the harvest down But now I wear the geansaí and around me waist a belt I'm the gaffer of the squad that makes the hot asphalt Well, we laid it in a hollows and we laid it in the flat And if it doesn't last forever, sure I swear, I'll eat me hat Well, I've wandered up and down the world and sure I never felt Any surface that was equal to the hot asphalt The other night a copper comes and he says to me, McGuire Would you kindly let me light me pipe down at your boiler fire? And he planks himself right down in front, with hobnails up, till late And says I, me decent man, you'd better go and find your bait He ups and yells, I'm down on you, I'm up to all yer pranks Don't I know you for a traitor from the Tipperary ranks? Boys, I hit straight from the shoulder and I gave him such a belt That I knocked him into the boiler full of hot asphalt We quickly dragged him out again and we threw him in the tub And with soap and warm water we began to rub and scrub But devil the thing, it hardened and it turned him hard as stone And with every other rub, sure you could hear the copper groan I'm thinking, says O'Reilly, that he's lookin' like old Nick And burn me if I am not inclined to claim him with me pick Now, says I, it would be easier to boil him till he melts And to stir him nice and easy in the hot asphalt You may talk about yer sailor lads, ballad singers and the rest Your shoemakers and your tailors but we please the ladies best The only ones who know the way their flinty hearts to melt Are the lads around the boiler making hot asphalt With rubbing and with scrubbing, sure I caught me death of cold For scientific purposes, me body it was sold In the Kelvin grove museum, me boys, I'm hangin' in me pelt As a monument to the Irish, making hot asphalt
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