John Hartford - This eve of parting

^GbIt's hard to think t^Bhis eve of p^Dbarting ^GbTurns to sand o^Bf summer gone^{Db Gb}When both our ^Bbmminds are w^Ebmarped with p^Dbarting

^GbBreak the thought of ^Bnights ^Dbalone ^GbMaybe I ^Bshould turn in ^Dbsilence ^GbTell ^Bbmmyself ^AbmI didn't ^Dbcare ^GbCurse the t^Ebmhought of your ^Dbexistence ^GbLoving ^Bevery flaxon ^Dbhair

^AbmFlesh cries out, "Don't move don't leave me" Conscience runs ^Dbtill out of breath ^GbSunrise pregnant^Ebm with your ^Dbleaving Creeping in like ^Bcertain ^Dbdeath

^GbThe pattern^Bbm of the ^Dbbird of love That^Gb's wheelin' on its ^Bdizzy ^Dbway ^GbTears me ^Bbmdown ^Ebmto basic ^Dbsorrow ^GbUseless for ^Banother ^Dbday

^GbIt's hard to ^Dbthink this eve of parting ^GbTurns to sand of^Eb summer ^Abmgone ^{Db Gb}When both our ^Ebmminds are warped with ^Dbparting ^GbBreak the thought of ^Bnights ^Dbalone

^AbmFlesh cries out, "Don't ^Dbmove don't leave me" ^AbmConscience runs ^Dbtill out of breath ^GbSunrise pregnant^Ebm with your ^Dbleaving ^GbCreeping in like ^Bcertain deat^Dbh