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#----------------------------------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. #
From: RSambu@aol.com
Date: Thu, 11 Jan 1996 23:35:28 -0500
Subject: /b/bevis_frond/london_stone.crd

                            London Stone
                         by The Bevis Frond

from London Stone        Woronzow  WOO 18CD           1992

  Em (022000@1)  D (xx0232@1)   C (x32010@1)   D (xx0232@1) /  /  /  /  /  /  /  /      [4x]

Em (022000@1)      C (x32010@1)        G (320003@1)D (xx0232@1)      Em (022000@1)   C (x32010@1)    BmFare (x24432@1)thee well, old city, these changes no one needs,
      Em (022000@1)   C (x32010@1)          G (320003@1) D (xx0232@1)      Em (022000@1)     C (x32010@1)      B5 (x244xx@1)A5 (x022xx@1)G (320003@1)name="chord_244xxx@1">F#5
Your office blocks stand empty, whose walls reflect our greed.
    Em (022000@1)   C (x32010@1)       G (320003@1)  D (xx0232@1)   Em (022000@1)      C (x32010@1)     BmWe (x24432@1)swept away your markets, we lost the Walbrook pipes,
    Em (022000@1)     C (x32010@1)   Bm (x24432@1)DWe (xx0232@1)build on open spaces
    Em (022000@1)     C (x32010@1)   B5 (x244xx@1)A5 (x022xx@1)G (320003@1)F#5We (244xxx@1)spit upon your lives.
    C (x32010@1)        G (320003@1)    Bm (x24432@1)        C (x32010@1)       G (320003@1)        BmOh (x24432@1)God Bless Rainham Marshes, to fight the bricks and steel
   C (x32010@1)    G (320003@1)         Am (x02210@1)  EmA (022000@1)pox on those whose profit sees them
  Bm (x24432@1)            C (x32010@1)        D (xx0232@1)       Em (022000@1)  D (xx0232@1) C (x32010@1) DPouring (xx0232@1)concrete spew where once were fields,
            Em (022000@1)   D (xx0232@1)  COnce (x32010@1)were fields.

            Em (022000@1)   D (xx0232@1)  C (x32010@1)   Em (022000@1) D (xx0232@1)  COnce (x32010@1)were fields.

Still in quiet corners the dead are sleeping sound,
Behind the broken hoardings, yours for just one pound.
They'll move the bones discreetly, and stack the gravestones well,
And once a year you'll earn the right to see your father's consecrated hell,
Consecrated Hell
Consecrated Hell

The air is getting thinner, the cars are slowing down,
The dogs are going hungry, I love my fair hometown
My heart is hanging heavy, don't leave me on my own,
'Cos when I die, I'll need a friend
To carve my name and dates in London Stone,
London Stone.


tabbed by Rick Sambuco, lyrics through Keith Hill

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