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Young Girl Blues ukulele

by Donovan
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Strumming
There is no strumming pattern for this song yet. and get +5 IQ
       This is a version a friend sent me it seems to be correct.



Am		 C		F	Am 
It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways 
	Am		 C		F	Am 
If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days 
	Am		 C		F	Am 
Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely 
	Am		 C		F	Am 
You are but a young girl working your way through the phonies 



 Chorus 
Dm	   F		Eadd4			Am 
   Cafe on,  milk gone,  such a sad light and fading. 
Dm	   	F		     Eadd4	   Am 
 Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's degrading. 

	Am		 C		F	Am 
The flowers on your stockings wilting away in the midnight 
	Am		 C		F	Am 
The book you are reading is someone's opinion of moonlight 
	Am		 C		F	Am 
Your skin is so white, you'd like maybe to go to bed soon 
	Am		 C		F	Am 
Just closing your eyes if you're to rise up before noon 



Dm	    F		Eadd4		    Am 
 High heels, car wheels, all the losers are groovin' 
Dm	    F		   Eadd4	Am 
 Your dream, strange scene, images are movin' 



Your friends they are making a pop star or two every evening 

You know that scene backwards, they can't see the patterns 
they're weaving 
Your friends they're all models but you soon got over that 
one 
You sit in your one room a little brought down in London 

Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading. 
Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's 
degrading. 


It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways 
If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days 
Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely 
You are but a young girl working your way through the 
phoniesIt's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways 
If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days 
Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely 
You are but a young girl working your way through the 
phonies 


Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading. 
Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's 
degrading. 


The flowers on your stockings wilting away in the midnight 
The book you are reading is someone's opinion of moonlight 
Your skin is so white, you'd like maybe to go to bed soon 
Just closing your eyes if you're to rise up before noon 


High heels, car wheels, all the losers are groovin' 
Your dream, strange scene, images are movin' 


Your friends they are making a pop star or two every evening 


You know that scene backwards, they can't see the patterns 
they're weaving 
Your friends they're all models but you soon got over that 
one 
You sit in your one room a little brought down in London 


Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading. 
Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's 
degrading. 


It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways 
If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days 
Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely 
You are but a young girl working your way through the 
phonies 

            
            
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