Misc Your Songs - Raymond arnold – give me your tired

^CmNot like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With ^Fconquering limbs astride from land to land; ^G#Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A ^Gmighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the im^Cmprisoned lightning, and her name ^FMother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows ^G#world-wide welcome; Her mild eyes command The^G air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

^G#"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With ^Fsilent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your ^G#huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The ^Gwretched refuse of your teeming shore. ^G#Send these, the homeless, ^Ftempest-tost to me, And ^GI lift my lamp beside... the ^Fmgolden ^Cmdoor...

Give me your ^Cmtired Give me your poor huddled masses, ^Fyearning to breathe free... Give me your ^Cmtired Give me your wretched, your homeless, your ^G#tempest tossed. Send them to ^Gme.

Give me your ^Cmtired - the lost who are tryin’ to get found Give me your ^Ftired - looking for solid ground Give me your ^G#tired.

... ^G... Give them to ^Cmme. And I ^G#see you. Your hope and your courage, on your ^A#distant teeming shore And I'm ^G#standing lifting my lamp beside that ^A#golden door

^CmStanding and waiting, watching waves wash by ^FBroken shackles lie where no one can see ^G#Listening for the exile’s distant cry ^GDecades pass her by. Brazen bronze turns green

^G#"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With ^Cmsilent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your ^G#huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The ^A#wretched refuse of your teeming shore. ^G#Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, And ^GI lift my lamp beside... the ^Fmgolden ^Cmdoor...

Give me your ^Cmtired Give me your poor huddled masses, ^G#yearning to breathe free... Give me your ^Cmtired Give me your wretched, your homeless, your ^Ftempest tossed. Send them to ^Gme.

Give me your ^Cmtired - the lost who are tryin’ to get found Give me your ^Ftired - looking for solid ground Give me your ^G#tired.

... ^A#... Give them to ^Cmme.

^FHow many years can a statue exist, ^Cmbefore it is washed to the sea? ^G#How many years can a people exist, ^Cmbefore they are finally free ^FHow many years can a land turns it’s head, pre^Gtending it just doesn’t see?

^G#(Give me your ^Cmtired) Give me your poor huddled masses, ^A#(Give me your ^Cmtired) your lost who are tryin' to get found ^A#(Give me your ^Cmtired) Give me your wretched your homeless your tempest tossed ^A#(Give me your ^Cmtired) Looking for solid ground ^G#(Give ^A#me your ^Cmtired) Singing Amazing Grace... ^A#(Give me your ^Cmtired) ...how sweet the sound ^G#(Give ^A#me your ^Ftired) Give me your ^G#tired ^A#Give them to ^Cmme Give me your ^G#tired, give me your ^A#tired Give them to ^Cme.