Tabbed by Blackmirth



       D              A
in the silver morning hollow
        G             D
trembling and getting old
         D            A
smelling burnt oil of heaven
          G                 D
about ten years, too big to hold

               A         G               D
she don't get up when I come into the room
           A               G          D
she don't run through the fields anymore

        D                A
built a fire in the kitchen
        G           D
made her bed by a stove
      D            A
took a walk to the graveyard
        G               D
but she didn't want to go

           A              G           D
she don't worry all them murders of crows
     A                 G            D
even though they was always out of reach

               A         G               D
she don't get up when I come into the room
           A               G          D
she don't run through the fields anymore