Gordon Bok - The sands of dee

Oh Mary, go call the ^Dcattle ^Ahome Across the ^F#msands of ^BmDee ^E The ^Awestern ^Dwind was ^Ewild with ^Dfoam And ^Aall a^Elone went ^Ashe

^EOhh, ^Dohh, ^Eohh, ^Dohh ^C#mOhh, o^E7hh, o^Ahh

The western tide crept ^Dup the ^Asand Far as the ^F#meye could ^Bmsee ^E The ^Arolling mist ^Dcame down and ^Ehid the ^Dland And ^Anever ^Ehome came ^Ashe

^EOhh, ^Dohh, ^Eohh, ^Dohh ^C#mOhh, o^E7hh, o^Ahh

Oh, ^Eis it a tress of ^Agolden hair A^Dbove the nets at ^Asea? But ^Dnever a salmon yet ^Eshone so ^Dfair A^Across the ^Esands of ^ADee

^EOhh, ^Dohh, ^C#mohh, ^E7ohh, ^Aohh [Verse] We ^Erowed her in across the ^Arolling foam To her ^Dgrave beside the ^Asea But ^Dstill the boatmen ^Ehear her ^Dcall A^Across the ^Esands of ^ADee

^EOhh, ^Dohh, ^Eohh, ^Dohh ^C#mOhh, ^E7ohh, ^Aohh