Em                 G               A             D 
The red-haired trouble in the neighborhood
 Em           G                 A            D 
The first fiddle; that was understood
 G          Em   C                   D 
All her days like A zebra’s skin
 G                 Em    C                D 
She used to be happy but now she’s in

(Ирландская народная песня )
           Dm   G            C 
I wish I was in Carrickfergus
           Dm     G            C 
Only for nights in Ballygran
              Dm    G              C 
I would swim over the deepest ocean

 F#        H       F#        C# 
Days of wine, days of roses -
 F#          H              F#                 C# 
They are here again, brought by summer haze.
 F#             F#7                H                   Hm 
The world inside of me was split and bored and fighting -
      F#        D#m            H             C# 
But now it stands still, silent and amazed.

(Ирландская народная песня)
      D          F#m              G                Hm 
Oh Bridgit O'Malley. You've left my heart shaken
         G              F#m           Hm             G 
With A hopeless desolation, I'd have you to know
                          F#m           Hm               G 
It's the wonders of admiration your quiet face has taken

 G#               D#                       C#             G#        D# 
These are the best years of our lives - sweet and peaceful
      G#             D#                           C# 
The best years of our lives - enchanted and fey
 D# 
Like the seeds we're sown,

 D            G          A         G           D         G       A     G 
It was A beautiful night, when I was talking to My Lord;
I said: "Oh my, Omniscient One, tell me, why I'm tired and
                                                         bored?"
He said - Shut up and listen, you know - words are all in vain;
 D        G           A                G      D 
Just check your soul for this blue train.

 A             G                        A 
It was the time, when nothing was right,
  G                         A 
Time, when nothing was wrong;
When ballerinas fly in the wind -
This time is now.