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NO PROVENANCE
CAPO ON 3RD FRET
Am E G F
Allelu, allelu:
Am
I have died happy,
E G F
and lived to tell the tale to you.
Am
I have slept for forty years,
E G F
and woke to find me gone.
Am G F
I woke safe and warm in your arms.
C (C7)
In your arms
F Dm
Your arms
G C B/C
In your arms
Am E G F
Not informed of the natural law,
Am E
squatting, lordly, on a stool, in a stall,
G F
we spun gold clear out of straw.
Am E
And, when our bales of bullion
G
were stored,
F
you burned me like a barn.
Am G F
I burned safe and warm in your arms.
C (C7)
In your arms
F
Your arms
Dm A
I'm afraid of the Big Return.
D C#/D Bm G
There's a certain conversation lost,
F# B
and that loss incurred
D
with nobody remaining,
E Am Bb A
to register who had passed this way,
D
in the night,
D C#/D Bm
in the middle of the night
G F# B7
(negating their grace and their sight),
D E
till only I remember, or mark,
Am E
how we had our talk:
G F
We took our ride,
Am
so that there was no-one home,
E G
and the lights of Rome
F
flickered and died.
And, what's more,
Am E
I believe that you knew it, too;
G F
I think you saw their flares,
Am G F
and kept me safely unawares,
C (C7)
in your arms.
F Dm
In your arms
G C B/C
In your arms.
Am E G F
The grass was tall, and strung with burrs,
Am
I essayed that high sashay which,
E G
in my mind, was my way;
F
you hung behind, in yours.
Am E
Anyhow, she did not neigh.
I do not know
G F
what drew our eyes to hers;
Am G F
that little black mare did not stir,
C F
till I lay down in your arms.
Dm A D
Poor old dirty little dog-size horse!—
C#/D Bm G
swaying and wheezing,
F# B
as a matter of course;
D E
swaying and wheezing,
Am Bb
as a matter of pride.
A D C#/D Bm
That poor old nag, not four palms wide,
G F# B7
had waited a long time,
D E
coated in salt,
Am Bb A D
buckled like a ship run foul of the fence.
D C#/D Bm
In the middle of the night,
G
she'd sprung up,
F# B
no provenance,
D E Am
bearing the whites of her eyes.
Bb
And you, with your
A D
'arrangement' with Fate,
C#/D Bm
nodded sadly at her lame assault
G F# B
on that steady old gate,
D E Am E
her faultlessly etiolated fishbelly-face;
G F
the muzzle of a ghost.
Am
And, pretty Johnny Appleseed,
E
via satellite feed,
G
tell us, who was it
F
that you then loved the most?
Am
Pretty Johnny Appleseed,
E G
leave a trail that leads
F
straight back down to the farm.
Lay me down
Am G F
safe and warm in your arms.
Am G A
In your arms.
