Mary Black - The holy ground

I was born on the ^Dholy grou^Gnd ^C A running ^Gchild in ^Dfields of ^Gclover I was living in the ^Dgrandeur ^Gof ^C My father's land ^{D G}

By the side of the ^Dswirling ^Gsea ^C I spent the ^Gdays of ^Dchildish ^Gwonder And rocks I held in ^Dmy young ^Ghands ^C I never felt them slip away ^{D G}

Well, the sun shone ^Dbright u^Gpon the ^Cwaves And the ^Gwind blew ^Dhigh as ^GI was leaving And I sailed so ^Dfar a^Gway ^C Looking for adventure ^{D G}

But I would not ^Dstay where the ^Gcity ^Cstreets Proclaimed so ^Gloudly ^Dman's en^Gdeavours Though music is a ^Dpretty ^Gthing ^C In fine company ^{D G}

And the wilder^Dness took ^Gmy breath a^Cway Under a ^Gsun that ^Dnever ^Gfalters I felt I had to ^Dfind my ^Gway where ^C No one ever goes ^{D G}

It was in the ^Dsouth that my ^Gnew home ^Clay With a dark-eyed ^Gboy and ^Dwild ^Ghorses With humming birds and ^Droses ^Gthere in ^C Old Mexico ^{D G}

There the winds of change, they ^Dblew so ^Gfar ^C Of liber^Gty and ^Drevo^Glution It seemed that each man ^Dheard in his ^Gbreast ^C The drumming of a nation ^{D G}

I was born on the ^Dholy grou^Gnd ^C A running ^Gchild in ^Dfields of ^Gclover I was living in the ^Dgrandeur ^Gof ^C My father's land ^{D G}