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Capo 3 [Verse] Am G It was a sunday in east Berlin i chanced upon a market Am i though how love or lack thereof matched the coins in my pocket G but thats ok i have no pay im happy all the same Am to look through a box of broken clocks and old Atari games C G Am and racks of army uniforms of both the west and east C G Am and postcards sent to people who were long ago deceased Am G a plastic orange comb left over from the GDR Am and in a nook behind some books an old parlour guitar Am G it was sat upon a wooden packing crate that had been flipped Am and if the chance the cursory glance youd call it non descript G but i double took i stopped to look and its just one of those things Am i do when at a loss i reached across and lightly brushed the strings C G Am the sound both deep and ancient came up from the hole beneath C G Am the kind that comes from timber given in to times bequethed C G Am enough for me to wonder i put up my hand to hale C Em Am the vendor of the table just to ask... if its for sale [Break] Am G well he had a chin with whiskers in and in between his lips Am he held a cigarette he hadnt lit i took him for a gypsy G he stooped and bent and complimented me on my selection Am to my surprise within his eyes i saw my own reflection C G Am i dont him im not buying im just interested to know C G Am so i thought how love or lack thereof matched my fiscal flow C G Am he asked me for my name and when he handed it to me C Em Am he said it undignified to talk of money... before history [Break] and then he said.... Am G if you hold it right up to the light in pencil can be seen Am the signature of the luthier and the date 1918 G but sir have you got the certificate of authenticity Am he said whats the point when you can get the story straight from me Am G a russian commander first saw it in a shop window in munich Am he was on a stroll and felt the roll of deutchmarks in his tunic G he bought it on a whim and to his friend the commisar Am said if i survive this war alive ill learn to play guitar C G Am he had one final 7 week assignment with his unit G Am and im sad to say he was blown away before he learned to tune it [Break] Am G it was sent back to his greiving widow with the rest of his effects Am and it languished there under the stair right where the dust collects G but there came a day when she passed away as well and without kin Am so through her stash and it was labelled trash and put out with the bin C G Am it was only sitting on that lonely street in Leningrad C G Am for an hour or two before being rescued up by a young lad G he was on the hop afraid to stop for long for fear of prison Am a balchevik who had been made awefully sick by communism C G Am he was disenchanted by the practice of the party scheme C G Am how it proved all men are equal seemed to be a tad extreme C G Am he walked down by the baltic sea and there he hopped a freigter C Em Am and not a word was heard from him again... until many years later [Break] Am G the old man stopped to rest and get his breath and his eyes they started glazing Am over i told him this story was both trajic and amazing G oh dont stop now i must know how this ends and please be quick Am do you know whht became of this mutanous balchevik? [Break] G well the old gyspy looked back at me and his eyes they seemed to clear Am he said in 34 he went ashore in the city of Tangier G but he came undone as hed become from all those years at sea Am addicted to, as sailors do, port wine and gin rummy C G Am and one night in a game in a cafe near the medina C G Am as the hour grew ever late the balchies kitty it grew leaner C G Am and when his francs were gone he prayed upon the evening star C Em Am they took the coat that he was wearing, watch and ring....and that guitar [Break] Am G it was won by a german banker who liked it all just fine Am who'd grown soft with drinking thinking of his frauline G while still abroad he'd learned some chords and in a few months later Am when hes again back in berlin hed sit and serenade her C G Am he was held back in Morocco by the start of World War II C G Am and he learnt she'd met a young cadet and the two of them shot through Am G he cursed and spat and vowed that as long as she still lingered Am he'd much rather than play guitar, cut off all his fingers [Break] Am G well i felt sorry for this banker but it just didnt align Am if its 34 didnt the war begin in 39? G Pedant! he cried, would you deny me a single concession Am just let me tell you how this thing came into my possession. G i bought it from a local pedler, who bought it from a priest Am who drove his congregation mad with it to say the least G he'd picked it up for next to nothing browsing at a parish fete Am donated out of charity from a deceased estate [Accel] G of a lovely music teacher who played it for her pupils Am who'd earlier procured it from a man with dubious scrupols G who'd pinched it from a folk rock busker somewhere in the town Am who'd been playing in Alexanderplatz the night the wall came down G he got it cheaply off a man who run a music store for cash Am who swapped it from a trader with a handlebar moustache G who found it in a paper where it had been advertised Am by the son of that German banker who's old girlfriend he despised G you'd think any normal person would have just gone out and sold it Am but he kept it as a token of the time he was cuckolded G he hid it in his attick and it survived the war up there Am for 30 years until his son went looking for a chair G his dad refused to talk of it until he turned up his toes Am but now its found its way to you just give me 400 Euros. Am G The blood drained right out of the gypsy's face til it was ashen Am he seemed to be completely overcome by his own passion G i couldnt bare to think this was elaborate salesman patter Am but like i said i had no bread so it really didnt matter G the story clanged and banged around my head for the whole day Am in spite of all the other things i saw it wouldnt stray C G Am before i even knew it i found myself later on C Em Am rushing back to the gypsy but the guitar.... and he were gone [Break] Am G ive learnt that what you dont buy today may not be there tomorrow Am and you are never strictly poor if youve a friend from which to borrow G i thought the old gypsy knew this before he ever saw me Am because when i went Sunday, he was waiting for me C G Am Ive one more thing to sing my friends, if i may be so bold, C G Am the guitar of which i sing, is the one which i now hold Am G and to think of love, and the fullness of, is something i get from it Am and this song i sing wont mean a thing unless its played upon it.