Tuning: Standard EADGBe




Verse



If you were coming in the fall,

I'd brush the summer by
              C7               D
With half a smile and half a spurn,
                    G7      C7   D
As housewives do a fly.

 
            G7
If I could see you in a year,

I'd wind the months in balls,
              C7               D
And put them each in separate drawers,
                    G7     C7    D
Until their time befalls.


Chorus
      
         Bm
If only centuries delayed,
               Em     C
I'd count them on my hand,
             G                D
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
                   G
Into Van Diemen's land.

             Bm
If certain, when this life was out,
                Em         C
That yours and mine should be,
             G             D
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
            G
And taste eternity.


Outro

G7 - C7 - D



Verse

             G7
But now, all ignorant of the length

Of time's uncertain wing,
              C7              D
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
                          G7    C7    D
That will not state its sting


Chorus
      
         Bm
If only centuries delayed,
               Em     C
I'd count them on my hand,
             G                D
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
                   G
Into Van Diemen's land.

             Bm
If certain, when this life was out,
                Em         C
That yours and mine should be,
             G             D
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
            G
And taste eternity.





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Lyrics:

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting



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 |  Raileff  | 
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