Исполнитель: | Bob Dylan (English) |
Пользователь: | hallonnakil |
Длительность: | 130 секунд |
Начальная пауза: | 12 секунд |
Названия аккордов: | Не установлено |
Матерная: | |
Комментарии к подбору: | Нет |
Capo 3rd Fret
Intro
Am
e-------------|-------------|------------|
B-----1-1-1---|----1-1------|-----1-1-1--|
G-----2-2-2---|----2-2------|-----2-2-2--|
D-----2-2-2---|----2-2------|-----2-2-2--|
A-0-----------|-------------|-0----------|
E-------------|-0-------3---|------------|
Fill at the end of each verse played over the Am
chord
Am
e--------------|
B--------------|
G--------------|
D-0h2-0h2------|
A---------0--0-|
E--------------|
Intro
Am G
Come gather 'round friends and I'll tell you a tale
Am G Am
Of when the red iron-ore pits ran a-plenty
G
But the cardboard-filled windows and old men on the benches
Am G Am
Tell you now that the whole town is empty
Am G
In the north end of town my own children are grown
Am G Am
But I was raised on the other
G
In the wee hours of youth my mother took sick
Am G Am
And I was brought up by my brother
Am G
All iron ore poured as the years passed the door
Am G Am
The drag lines and shovels they was a-humming
G
'Till one day my brother failed to come home
Am G Am
The same as my father before him
Am G
With, a long winter's wait from the window I watched
Am G Am
My friends they couldn't have been kinder
G
And my schooling was cut as I quit in the spring
Am G Am
To marry John Thomas, a miner
Am G
the years passed again, and the giving was good
Am G Am
With the lunch bucket filled every season
G
What with three babies born, the work was cut down
Am G Am
To a half a day's shift with no reason
Am G
Then the shaft was soon shut, and more work was cut
Am G Am
And the fire in the air, it felt frozen
G
'Till a man come to speak, and he said in one week
Am G Am
That number eleven was closing
Am G
They say in the East, they are paying too high
Am G Am
They say that your ore ain't worth digging
G
That it's much cheaper down in the South American towns
Am G Am
Where the miners work almost for nothing
Am G
So the mining gates locked, and the red iron rotted
Am G Am
And the room smelled heavy from drinking
G
And the sad, silent song made the hour twice as long
Am G Am
As I waited for the sun to go sinking
Am G
I lived by the window as he talked to himself
Am G Am
This silence of tongues it was building
G
'Till one morning's wake, the bed it was bare
Am G Am
And I was left alone with three children
Am G
The summer is gone, the ground's turning cold
Am G Am
The stores one by one they're a folding
G
My children will go as soon as they grow
Am G Am
Well, there ain't nothing here now to hold them