[Capo on II]
G G/B Em C
Oh my name is Michael Conway, in old Ireland I was born
G G/B C D
Near the lake of Cloonacolly on a bright summer's morn
G C G/B C
But soon came cruel winter to break and scatter my poor home
G C G D G
Soon came the harsh day that forced me to roam.
G G/B Em C
Well I reached old Philadelphia in the brave land of the free
G G/B C D
Where I met with my two brothers; There was Pat, James, and me
G C G/B C
We were destined for the rich land fate owes us all from birth
G C G D G
We were bound for Butte, Montana, the richest hill on earth
C C G G
Where their pockets they bulge heavy, when copper's running high
C C Em D
Where the hill rewards her brave sons, it's fortune or die
G G/B Em C
Where they tread on silver dollars on the crowded barroom floor
G C G D G
While they strip the granite mountain of her precious copper ore.
G G/B Em
Well we leaped down off that steam train, and stepped out into the yellow
C
mist
G G/B C D
With holes still in our hearts then, and a fight in either fist
G C G/B C
No kind face to lead us up to where the dirty smelter spat
G C G D G
And it's there I took to hard labor as a Butte mining rat
C C G G
Where we trade the hours of daylight for the smell of copper ore,
C C Em D
Where it's whiskey and the cow pats to cure our copper sores
G G/B Em C
Where half the town it labors while the other half it sleeps
G C G D G
Where upon the granite mountain, a mile high and deep.
[Break--same as chorus]
G G/B Em C
Oh they know me down in Dogtown, bare knuckle I would go
G G/B C D
For there's not a man could best me while standing toe to toe
G C G/B C
But I defied the crooked sheriff, for I wouldn't throw his fight away
G C G D G
He should have laid it on at 5 to 2, and backed the bold Conway
G G/B Em C
I was lifted in Con Peoples, with the beer and music flowing free
G G/B C D
Where my brothers had just left me, Oh bad fortune for me
G C G/B C
Dragged out by crooked cowards, their batons knocked me off my feet
G C G D G
And they left me to die there, like a dog in the street.
C C G G
Far from the Anaconda, the mine with seven stacks
C C Em D
Far from the ashen faces of young men with crooked backs
G G/B Em C
Far from the granite mountain and the dusty grave in which I lie
G C G D G
My spirit chases starlings 'round a clear Mayo sky.
(outro) C G D G
