SLIP JIGS & REELS (Steve Tilston) [Capo 2]

He was barely a man in his grandfather's coat
D                                        G   
Sewn into the lining a ten-shilling note
    D                         A7 D
Goodbye to the family, goodbye to the shore
D                                     G
'Till I taste good fortune you'll see me no more
                  D                     A7 D

G    D    A7   D       G    D    A7    D

A boat on the ocean tossed like a cork
D                               G
Then one fine morning they sighted New York
D                                  A7 D
He stood on the gang-plank and breathed in the air
D                                             G
"Hello land of plenty, I've come for me share"
               D                     A7 D

G    D    A7   D       G    D    A7    D

        Chorus
And he did like the ladies, the rise and the fall
A7    D       G   D       A7 D       G   D
        Of their ankles and dresses, down on the dance floor
            A7   D      G    D       A7   D      A7    D
        And rolling the dice and spinning the wheel
        G   D       A7 D                     G      
        But he took most delight in the slip jigs and reels
               D         G   D      A7                D   

G D   G D   A7 D   G D A7 D


There's talk of a pistol and some say a knife
But all are agreed there was somebody's wife
Some kind of commotion, a terrible fight
He left a man dead and ran into the night

On a train from St. Louis, just one jump ahead
He slept one eye open, a six-gun in bed
He dreamt of the mountains and green fields of home
While crossing the plains where the buffalo roam

Chorus
Oh, bad reputation's a hard thing to bear
Mothers pour scorn and young children they stare
But he found consolation in flash company
Life ain't so bad with a girl on your knee

Oh they called him the Kid, and by twenty-one
All that he knew was the power of the gun
And by twenty-three, he'd shot five men down
Who got in his way as he rambled around

Chorus
There's bones in the desert and buzzards that fly
In the highest of circles, just wishing he'd die
But in matters of cruelty, it must be said
A landlord will pick your bones before you're dead

It was wild mescaleros, I heard people say
In the deadliest ambush near old Santa Fe
And a young buck was taken dressed in a coat
And inside the lining, a ten-shilling note

Chorus (twice}