Dan Zanes - A shantymans life

O^Eh, a shanty-man's life is a w^Bearisome life, although ^C#msome think it ^Bvoid of ^C#mcare S^Ewinging an ax from ^Bmorning till night in the ^C#mmidst of the ^Bforests so ^C#mdrear. ^ELying in the shanty ^C#mbleak and cold while the ^Ecold stormy wintry winds^C#m blow, And as ^F#soon as the ^C#mdaylight d^F#oth ap^Epear, to the w^C#mild woods^B we must^C#m go.

O^Eh, the cook rises up in the m^Biddle of the night saying, “Hur^C#mrah, brave boy^Bs, it's ^C#mday." B^Eroken slumbers oftt^Bimes are passed as the ^C#mcold winter n^Bight whiles^C#m away. Had we rum, wine or^E beer our spiri^C#mts for to cheer in day^Es so lonely do dwine, ^C#m and cold while the cold stormy wintry winds blow, Or a gl^F#ass of any s^C#mhone while^F# in th^Ee woods alone ^C#mfor to ch^Beer up o^C#mur troubled minds.

B^Eut when spring it does set in^B, double hardships begin, when the ^C#mwaters are pie^Brcing co^C#mld, A^End our clothes are ^Bdripping wet and fingers benumbed, and our^C#m pike-poles w^Be scarcely ^C#mcan hold. Betwixt rocks, shoa^Els and san^C#mds give employment to ^Eall hands our well-bande^C#md raft for to steer, and cold while the cold stormy wintry winds blow, And the^F# rapids that^C#m we run, o^F#h, the^Ey seem to us b^C#mut fun, f^Bor we're^C#m void of all slavish fear.

O^Eh, a shanty lad is the only l^Bad I love, and I nev^C#mer will deny t^Bhe same.^C#m M^Ey heart doth scorn ^Bthese conceited farmer boys who thi^C#mnk it a disgr^Baceful name^C#m. They may boast abou^Et their farms,^C#m but my shanty-boy h^Eas charms so far, far su^C#mrpassing them all, Until d^F#eath it doth^C#m us part h^F#e shal^El enjoy my hea^C#mrt, let h^Bis riche^C#ms be great or small.