William Bloat

A D In a mean abode on the Shankill Road A E A Lived a man named William Bloat D A F#m He had a wife, the bane of his life A E Who always got his goat A D So one day at dawn, with her nightdress on A E A He slit her bloody throat A D With a razor gash he settled her hash A E A and never was crime so quick D A F#m but the steady drip on the pillowslip A E of her lifeblood made him sick A D And the pool of gore on the bedroom floor A E A grew clotted and cold and thick A D Now, he was glad that he'd done what he had A E A As she lay there stiff and still D A F#m 'Til suddenly awe of the angry law A E Filled his soul with an awful chill A D And to finish the fun so well begun A E A He decided himself to k**l A D So he took the sheet from his wife's cold feet A E A And he twisted it into a rope D A F#m And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf A E 'Twas an easy end, let's hope A D With his dying breath and he facing death A E A He solemnly cursed the Pope A D But the strangest turn of the whole concern A E A Is only just beginning D A F#m He went to hell, but his wife got well A E And she's still alive and sinning A D For the razor blade was British-made A E A But the rope was Belfast linen