#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
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From mwiseley@student.umass.edu Fri May 16 08:26:11 1997
Date: Fri, 09 May 1997 18:02:53 -0400
From: Matt Wiseley 
To: guitar@olga.net
Subject: mountains_of_the_moon.crd

Mountains of the Moon
Jerry Garcia/Robert Hunter

CHORDS USED (minus the obvious ones):

 F/G     Dm/G    Dm7     G/B     D/F#    C/G     G/F
3x3211  3x0231  xx0211  x2x033  2x023x  3x2010  1x0003


Intro:
Gsus2   G    F/G    Dm/G    G     F/G    Dm/G    G

G             F          Dm              G
Cold mountain water, the jade merchanges daughter.
Twenty degrees of solitude, twenty degrees in all.
Mountains of the moon, Electra, mountains of the moon.

                 F              Dm              G
Mountains of the moon, Electra, bow and bend to me.
All the dancing kinds and wives assembled in the hall.
All along the, all along, the mountains of the moon.

              F             Dm            G
Heigh-ho, the carrion crow, fol-de-rol-de-riddle.
Lost is the long and loneliest town, fairy sybil flying.
Heigh-ho, the carrion crow, fol-de-rol-de-riddle.

              F             Dm              G
Heigh-ho, the carrion crow, bow and bend to me.
All along the, all along, the mountains of the moon.
Heigh-ho, the carrion crow, bow and bend to me, bend to me. [END]

C        G      C         G              Dm
Hey, Tom Banjo,    hey, a laurel.
Hey, Tom Banjo,    it's time to matter.

Dm               G                       Dm
More than laurel you may sow.
The earth will see you on through this time.

Dm               G
More than laurel you may sow.
The earth will see you on through this time.

Dm7     C       G/B      Am   D/F#   G
Hey the laurel; hey, the city in the rain.
Down by the water, the Marsh King's daughter, did you know?

C    G/B  F        C/G        G/F    Em     Dm7
Hey, hey, hey, the wild wheat waving in the wind.
Clothed in tatters, always will be. Tom, where did you go?