Gordon Bok - Harp song of the dane women

^F#mWhat is a woman, that y^Bmou forsake her ^AAnd the hearth^C#mfire ^Dand the home-^Eacre ^F#m To go with the ^Bmold, ^F#mgrey widow-^Bmmaker? ^{C#7 F#m}

She has no house to ^Bmlay a guest in ^F#m But one chill ^Dbed for ^Bmall to rest ^F#min That the ^Bmpale suns and the ^C#7stray 'bergs rest ^F#min

She has no strong white ^Bmarms to fold ^F#myou But the ten-times-^Dfingering ^Bmweed to hold ^F#myou ^BmDown in the dark where the ^C#7tide has rolled ^F#myou ^{Bm C#7 F#m}

Yet when the ^C#msigns of ^Dsummer quicken And the ^Eice breaks, and the ^Bmbirch-buds thicken ^AYearly you ^Bmturn from our ^C#7side and ^F#msicken

Sicken a^C#mgain for the ^Dblood and the slaughters You ^Esteal away to the ^Bmlapping ^F#mwaters And ^Bmlook to your ship in ^C#7her winter ^F#mquarters ^{Bm C#7 F#m}

You forget our mirth, our ^Bmtalk at the tables The ^F#mkine in the ^Dshed and the ^Ehorse in the ^F#mstables ^BmTo pitch her sides and go ^C#7over the ^F#mcables ^{Bm C#7 F#m}

Then you ride ^C#mout where the ^Dstorm clouds swallow The ^Esound of your oar-blades^Bm, falling ^F#mhollow Is all we have ^Bmleft for the ^C#7months to ^F#mfollow ^{Bm C#7}

Ah, ^F#mwhat is woman, that ^Bmyou forsake her ^AAnd the hearth^C#mfire ^Dand the home-^Eacre ^F#m To go with the ^Bmold, ^F#mgrey widow-^Bmmaker?