Norman Blake - Grandpas barn

^CLike a battle worn ^Amshoulder, its ^Ffaithfully ^Gstood A ^Cmodest cr^Ameation, built ^Fmostly of ^Gwood But ^Ctime and n^Ameglect, they've ^Ftaken their ^Gtoll And now ^Fgrandpa's ^Gbarn, stands ^Fforgotten and ^Cold. ^CThe roof has turned ^Ambrown, from the ^Frust on the ^Gtin Any ^Cday now the ^Amwhole thing, could come ^Ftumbling ^Gin The ^Chinges have ^Amrusted, on the ^Fbig oaken ^Gdoors And ^Fjohnson grass grows ^Gthrough, the ^Fcracks in the ^Cboards.

^CIn the mainger hangs ^Amsingle trees, ^Fharness and ^Gsuch Where he ^Cleft them there ^Amcovered, with ^Fcobwebs and ^Gdust There's his ^Cold slick fork ^Amsaddle, he was ^Fonce a ^Gcowboy It's a ^Fshame what the ^Gyears and the ^Fmice will des^Ctroy. ^CThere's a chill in the ^Amloft now, its ^Fsilent and ^Gstale Where ^Cgrand children ^Amplay, in ^Fsweet clover ^Gbails Where ^Craindrops were ^Amlullabies, on ^Fdark stormy ^Gdays For ^Flittle girls and ^Gkittens, a^Fsleep in the ^Chay. ^CI remember the ^Amsound, of an ^Fold man's ^Glaughter But ^Cnow all I ^Amhear, is the ^Fwind in the ^Grafters And it ^Cspeaks of a ^Amsadness, that ^Ftimes passing ^Gbrings And makes ^Ffaded old ^Gmemories and ^Ftobacco juice ^Cstains.

^CBut old barns they ^Amvanish, like ^Fcastles of ^Gsand Their ^Cglory fades ^Amquickly, like ^Fyouth from a ^Gman For a ^Cseason they'll ^Ambloom, shinning ^Ffruits of his ^Gtoll Then in ^Ftimes deadly ^Ggrip, they crumble ^Fback into ^Csoil. ^CAbandoned it ^Amstands, like ^Fancient grey ^Gghost ^CSurrounded by ^Amweeds and ^Frotten fence ^Gposts Its a ^Cbitter sweet ^Amrelic, of an ^Fold man and his ^Gfarm I close the ^Fgate for the ^Glast time, as I ^Fleave grandpa's ^Cbarn.