Irish Songs Lyrics With Guitar Chords By Martin Dardis

Up The Border lyrics and chords

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Up The Border, The Wolfe Tones Lyrics And Chords from the album ''The Teddy Bear's Head'' and more recently on The ''Troubles Album'',  Guitar Chords By Marc Fahrbach.

UP THE BORDER 4/4 (Wolfe Tones)

 

VERSION 1 (From ‚The Troubles’ Use capo on 3rd fret)

 

Oh, then (D)Basil (A7)Brugha’s me (D)name, with me (G)orange sash I (D)came

For to beat me drum on the (Bm)twelfth day of ju(Em)ly(A7)

And the (D)English (A7)queen and (D)crown I’ll (G)never let them (D)down

‚Up the Border, keep the (A7)border!’, is me (D)cry.

 

Oh, then Basil you’re the man to ??? orange ???

For you’ll never talk to papish, fenian types.

And with Orangemen you’re seen- we don’t like the colour green

Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

‚Oh, then Basil be a dear,’ said the wife to me one year

‚To paper up the kitchen you must try.’

So I got some sticky glue, put up red, white and blue

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

Oh, then Basil, you’re the man, keep our land a ??? land

And drive the fenians far across the sea

For ? they’ll get none, all those croppies will lie down

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

Now I have some empty bags, I’ll fill them up with fags

I’ll buy them down in Dublin on the ???

And the customs men I’ll hook, for me name is Basil Brugha.

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

 

VERSION 2

 

Oh, then (D)Basil (A7)Brugha’s me (D)name, with me (G)orange sash I (D)came

For to beat me drum on the (Bm)twelfth day of ju(Em)ly(A7)

And the (D)English (A7)queen and (D)crown I’ll (G)never let them (D)down

‚Up the Border, keep the (A7)border!’, is me (D)cry.

 

Now beyond in USA you’ll no longer hear them say

For president no papish need apply

For in Belafst there is no hope for a man they call the Pope

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

Though were’re born in Ireland we must try to understand

That we all like to be English when we die.

Even heaven would be dull i fit hadn’t got John Bull

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

‚Oh, then Basil be a dear,’ said the wife to me one year

‚To paper up the kitchen you must try.’

So I got some sticky glue, put up red, white and blue

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

Now I have some empty bags and I’ll fill them up with fags

I’ll buy them down in Dublin on the sly

And the customs men I’ll hook, for me name is Basil Brugha.

‚Up the Border, keep the border!’, is me cry.

 

If Sinn Fein give me their spell sure Belfast can go to hell

And the border will be blown up to the sky.

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