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Shingling The Rum Sellers Roof Video (MV)






Unknown - Shingling The Rum Sellers Roof Lyrics




SHINGLING THE RUM SELLERS ROOF

(D) G C G / G D7 / G C G / G D7 G / Em Bm / Em D7 / G C G / G D7 G

One night a poor wretch in a wayside saloon,
Was lingering half drunken about,
Heard the voice of the rum seller's wife, as she said,
"Go put yonder drunken fool out."
The rum seller smiling, he made this reply,
In a voice that would brook no reproof,
"Let him stay if he wants, he is doing no harm,
The fellow is shingling our roof."

D7 G D7 / D7 G / G C G / D7 G

Are you shingling the rum seller's roof?
Are you shingling the rum seller's roof?
While your own house decays are you spending your days
Just shingling the rum seller's roof?
The months passed by, and he did not return,
The rum seller noted with pain.
So seeking him out with hospitable air,
He asked his old friend to explain.
"You want me to visit again your saloon,
And ask why I linger aloof.
With thanks for your kindness, this answer I'll give,
Because I've been shingling your roof."

CHORUS

All ye who are shingling the rum seller's roof,
And robbing yourselves and your own,
Remember the winter of life draweth nigh,
And soon will the summer have flown,
'Twill be no avail in the day of God's wrath,
To offer high heaven the proof,
That your own house is desolate only because,
You've shingled the rum seller's roof.
CHORUS
And woe to the man with the rum seller's heart,
Who covers himself at the cost
Of mankind and womankind, marred and despoiled,
Whose gain is that others are lost.
On the day when his roof around him shall fall,
And the weight of his sins bear the proof,
The lost he has ruined shall crush him and cry,
"We shingled the rum seller's roof."

CHORUS

"The best, logical argument in defense of sobriety ever published


in song." Maybe so, but it turns out to be a great drinking
song.

Words by Rev. Robert Whitacker; music, copyright, and published
by Andrew Lagerquist, Morris, Illinois, 1894.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




SHINGLING THE RUM SELLERS ROOF

(D) G C G / G D7 / G C G / G D7 G / Em Bm / Em D7 / G C G / G D7 G

One night a poor wretch in a wayside saloon,
Was lingering half drunken about,
Heard the voice of the rum seller's wife, as she said,
"Go put yonder drunken fool out."
The rum seller smiling, he made this reply,
In a voice that would brook no reproof,
"Let him stay if he wants, he is doing no harm,
The fellow is shingling our roof."

D7 G D7 / D7 G / G C G / D7 G

Are you shingling the rum seller's roof?
Are you shingling the rum seller's roof?
While your own house decays are you spending your days
Just shingling the rum seller's roof?
The months passed by, and he did not return,
The rum seller noted with pain.
So seeking him out with hospitable air,
He asked his old friend to explain.
"You want me to visit again your saloon,
And ask why I linger aloof.
With thanks for your kindness, this answer I'll give,
Because I've been shingling your roof."

CHORUS

All ye who are shingling the rum seller's roof,
And robbing yourselves and your own,
Remember the winter of life draweth nigh,
And soon will the summer have flown,
'Twill be no avail in the day of God's wrath,
To offer high heaven the proof,
That your own house is desolate only because,
You've shingled the rum seller's roof.
CHORUS
And woe to the man with the rum seller's heart,
Who covers himself at the cost
Of mankind and womankind, marred and despoiled,
Whose gain is that others are lost.
On the day when his roof around him shall fall,
And the weight of his sins bear the proof,
The lost he has ruined shall crush him and cry,
"We shingled the rum seller's roof."

CHORUS

"The best, logical argument in defense of sobriety ever published


in song." Maybe so, but it turns out to be a great drinking
song.

Words by Rev. Robert Whitacker; music, copyright, and published
by Andrew Lagerquist, Morris, Illinois, 1894.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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