Sandy Denny - Late november

The ^Cwine it was d^Emrunk, the ^Gship it was ^Fsunk, The ^Cshot it was ^Gdead, all the ^Fsorrows were ^Adrowned. The ^Cbirds they were ^Emclouds, the ^Gbrides and the ^Fshrouds And ^Cas we drew ^Gsouth the ^Fmist it came ^Adown.

The ^Cwooded ra^Emvine to the ^Gwandering ^Fstream, The ^Cserpent he ^Gmoved, but ^Fno-one would ^Asay. The ^Cdepths of the ^Emwaters, the ^Gbridge which d^Fistraught us And ^Cbrought to me ^Gthoughts of the ^Fill-fated ^Aday.

The ^Ctemples were ^Emfilled with the ^Gstrangest of ^Fcreatures One ^Cplayed it by ^Gear on the ^Fbanks of the ^Asea. That ^Cone was ^Emfound but the ^Gothers they went ^Funder. Oh the ^Ctears which are ^Gshed, they won’^Ft come fro^Am me.

The ^Cmethods of ^Emmadness, the ^Gpathos and the ^Fsadness, God ^Chelp you ^Gall, the ^Finsane and ^Awise. The ^Cblack and the ^Emwhite, the ^Gdarkness of the ^Fnight, I ^Csee only ^Gsmoke from the ^Fchimneys ^Aarise.

The ^Cpilot he flew all ^Emacross the ^Gsky and ^Fwoke me. He ^Cflew ^Gsolo on the ^Fmercury ^Asea. The ^Cdream it came ^Emback, all ^Gabout the tall ^Fbrown people, The ^Csacred young ^Gherd on the ^Fphosphorus ^Asand.