Shovels & Rope - Mourning song

^CShe walked into the kitchen where most mornings would beg^Fin Put her ^Chands down on the counter, streched her fingers long and ^Amthin Drug her ^Ceyes across the wall to where he hung his mando^Flin And she ^Cwhispered out the count like she was ^Amwhispering it to him

Mourning ^Cson^Fg, ^{Am G} mourning ^Cson^Fg ^{Am G} You were ^Falways on my ^Cmind, even ^Gthough I am now ^Amgone I ^Ftaught you these four ^Cchords so you could ^Gsing your mounring ^Csong

^CHe was not much of a singer, there was shrapnel in his ^Fsound Always ^Cready with a zinger that could burn the whole place ^Amdown The ^Clove was undefineable, no beginning and no ^Fend Like so ^Cmany ancient secrets ever ^Amblowing in the wind

Mourning ^Cson^Fg, ^{Am G} mourning ^Cson^Fg ^{Am G} You were ^Falways on my ^Cmind, even ^Gthough I am now ^Amgone I ^Ftaught you these four ^Cchords so you could ^Gsing your mounring ^Csong

^FThe walls ^Ctumb^Gling, the ^Fgates are ^Cope^Gning ^FSorrow ^Cwill not ^Gwindow, no, ^Amsorrow ^Gwill not ^Cwin

^CFrom the morning through the evening of each and every ^Fday ^CWildness to wisom, from the gold on through the ^Amgrey From the ^Csongs of newborn babies to those who failed along the ^Fway I have ^Cloved you and I will find you, now please sing me on my ^Amway

With your mourning ^Cson^Fg, ^{Am G} mourning ^Cson^Fg ^{Am G} Pardon ^Fme if I’m ^Csentimental, ^Gyou were always ^Amstrong So ^Fwake up little ^Cbird come and ^Gsing your mourning ^Csong