Mr. Bib’s Saorstat Star Time

Transpose
Year: 2010
Album: Rancho Tetrahedron

INTRO (x4)
C 
 
Gsus4 
 
G7 
VERSE 1
Am 
“This fool is your  
F9 
father”
Dm 
She held up the baby to  
F7/D# 
see
Am 
Her pretty red ringlets now  
F9 
dull as her eyes
 
In a  
Dm 
room semi-rented, in a  
F7/D# 
state born to lie
 
C 
 
Gsus4 
 
G7 
VERSE 2
Am 
Mr. Bib is from  
F9 
Breslau
 
His  
Dm 
name was truncated at  
F7/D# 
sea
Am 
His hands are unsteady, he  
F9 
stands 
 
bashfully
 
To  
Dm 
Ireland he came in nine
F7/D# 
teen-thirty-three
 
And the  
Ab 
crowds in white shirtsleeves and  
Gm 
sad floral prints
F 
Pay out their pence and their  
Eb 
shillings
 
The  
Ab 
secular glamour makes  
Gm 
aldermen 
 
flinch
 
He’s the  
F 
midwife at stardom’s be
Gm 
ginnings 
 
 
Eb 
 
Cm7 
 
Ab7 
CHORUS 1
F 
Tenors and  
Cm 
acrobats, 
 
 
Ebmaj7/D 
step-dancers, 
 
 
Ab 
mimes
F 
Mr. Bib’s  
Cm 
Saorstát 
 
 
Gm 
Star Time  
Dm 
F 
Beauty-queens, 
 
 
Cm 
strongmen, 
 
five-
Ebmaj7/D 
girl chorus  
Ab 
lines
F 
Mr. Bib’s  
Cm 
wagon of  
Gm 
sunshine 
 
 
Dm 
VERSE 3
Am 
We might picture what  
F9 
happened
 
In his  
Dm 
digs in Bundoran one  
F7/D# 
June
 
which has  
Am 
left him now red-faced in  
F9 
Youghal by the sea
 
As his  
Dm 
firstborn commences to  
F7/D# 
wail 
 
mournfully
 
“Be  
Ab 
quiet, the both of you,  
Gm 
why must you gripe?
 
Your  
F 
bellies are full, why be  
Eb 
bitter?”
 
She  
Ab 
said, “I’m worth better, you  
Gm 
cringing wee shite”
 
So he  
F 
picks up the poker to  
Gm 
hit her  
Eb 
 
Cm7 
 
Ab7 
CHORUS 2
 
The  
F 
big 
 
disap
Cm 
pearance on  
Ebmaj7/D 
everyone’s 
 
 
Ab 
lips
F 
Mr. Bib’s  
Cm 
Saorstát 
 
 
Gm 
Star Time  
Dm 
F 
Off to the  
Cm 
boat train in  
Ebmaj7/D 
disguise he  
Ab 
slips
F 
Mr. Bib,  
Cm 
still making  
Gm 
headlines 
 
 
Dm 
 
Gm 
 
Dm 
INTERLUDE
 
A  
Gm 
man with a ba
Dm 
by
Gm 
Refugees, 
 
may
Dm 
be
 
On  
Gm 
Holyhead Pier  
Dm 
in the  
F7/D# 
rain
 
A  
Gm 
man who is shame
Dm 
less
 
Need  
Gm 
never go state
Dm 
less
 
In  
Gm 
Silesia 
 
 
Dm 
or in  
Eb 
Spai
Cm7 
n
VERSE 4
Am 
Muswell Hill, nineteen-
F9 
sixty
Dm 
Brady’s the name at this  
F7/D# 
time
 
He’s  
Am 
vague on the details but  
F9 
nobody 
 
minds
 
They’ve  
Dm 
tears of their own which they  
F7/D# 
drink ’til they’re blind
 
And there are  
Ab 
always new drinkers, more  
Gm 
gone than the last
F 
Each with disasters un
Eb 
finished
 
As if  
Ab 
launched from their homeland to  
Gm 
bolster and craft
 
The  
F 
suffering of the  
Gm 
English 
 
 
Eb 
 
Cm7 
 
Ab7 
 
F 
Radio 
 
 
Cm 
Éireann and  
Ebmaj7/D 
the Sunday  
Ab 
Press
 
More  
F 
Mr. Bib’s  
Cm 
Saorstát 
 
 
Gm 
Star Time  
Dm 
 
‘cos it’s  
F 
wholesome and  
Cm 
cultured, with a  
Ebmaj7/D 
small hint of  
Ab 
sex
F 
Mr. Bib’s  
Cm 
Saorstát 
 
 
Gm 
Star Time  
Dm 
 
The  
F 
Anglian 
 
 
Cm 
coastline in e
Ebmaj7/D 
rosion’s dead  
Ab 
hold
F 
Gives up its  
Cm 
secrets for  
Gm 
pennies 
 
 
Dm 
 
A  
F 
smashed clifftop  
Cm 
hotel, Ark  
Ebmaj7/D 
of North Sea  
Ab 
Scrolls
 
Of  
F 
terse, bizarre  
Cm 
sagas, he  
Gm 
rea
Gsus2 
ds 
 
 
Gm 
many