Frank Turner - Our lady of the campfire

Tonight is her ni^Aght, and the ci^Dmty holds its b^Areath, ^DmCaught twixt life and d^Aeath, as she ro^Dmlls in from the subu^Arbs, The gar^Frison flees and the city will burn.

^F#Corinna rides like Boa^Edicea to^Dsus2night. ^F#London town tre^Embles at the si^Dsus2ght.

Because tonight is her ni^Aght. And the yo^Dmuth course through the st^Areets to l^Dmay down at her ^Afeet, And she r^Dmuns a regal e^Aye to ch^Foose who lives and decide who dies.

^FShe keeps her co^Gunsel, smiles when she sp^Ameaks now, from ear to^C ear. ^FShe's getting m^Garried, or so they t^Amell me, when the spring is ^Ehere. ^CShe hums a tu^Ene from a song she knows fr^F#om warm summers p^Amast, ^CA song that was sung b^Ey kids around cam^F#pfires in the quiet s^Amouthwest.