Faith Petric - Let me bring my guitar to heaven too

^EDear Lord, when I must die And reig^An up in the sky Where ev^Eeryone is shouting halle^Blu One favo^Er, Lord, I ask When my ^Asoul is called at last Let me b^Ering my guitar t^Bo heave^En too.

How many^A Martins get beyond thos^Ee pearly gates To pick ^Ethose sacred melodies fo^Br you? Harps an^Ed trumpets may sound fine But they^A just don’t sound old-time. Let me b^Ering my ^Bguitar to heave^En too.

How ofte^En, dearest lord Has my m^Aartin struck a chord When I w^Eas singing hymns in prai^Bse of you? Like me ^Eit’s done its share so Lord list^Aen to my prayer, Let me b^Ering my ^Bguitar to heave^En too.

^AHow many Martins get bey^Eond those pearly gates To pick ^Ethose sacred melodies fo^Br you? Harps an^Ed trumpets may sound fine But they^A just don’t sound old-time. Let me b^Ering my ^Bguitar to heave^En too.

I long, ^Edear Lord, to be With my ^Aold dear family And all ^Ethose friends who’ve gone to live with y^Bou. How we u^Esed to sing and play Lord whe^An I am laid away Let me b^Ering my guitar t^Bo heaven too. ^E

^AHow many Martins get bey^Eond those pearly gates To pick ^Ethose sacred melodies fo^Br you? Harps an^Ed trumpets may sound fine But they^A just don’t sound old-time. Let me b^Ering my ^Bguitar to heave^En too.