Stephen Foster - Hard times come again no more

Let us ^Dpause in life's pleasures, and ^Gcount it's many t^Dears, while we a^Dll sup, ^Asorrow w^A7ith the ^Dpoor. There's a ^Dsong that will linger for^Gever in our e^Dars, ^Goh, h^Dard t^Gimes ^Acome again no ^Dmore.

Tis the ^Dsong, the sigh of the ^Gwear^Dy, h^Dard times, hard times, ^E7come again no ^Amore. ^A7 Many d^Days you have lingered ar^Gound my cabin d^Door, ^Goh, ^Dhard times come a^Again no ^Dmore.

While we ^Dseek mirth and beauty, and music light a^Gnd gay, their f^Drail forms f^A7ainting at the ^Ddoor. Though their v^Doices are silent, their p^Gleading looks will say, ^Doh, h^Gard ^Dtimes c^Aome again no m^Dore.

Tis the ^Dsong, the sigh of the ^Gwear^Dy, h^Dard times, hard times, ^E7come again no ^Amore. ^A7 Many d^Days you have lingered ar^Gound my cabin d^Door, ^Goh, ^Dhard times come a^Again no ^Dmore.

There's a ^Dpale sorrow maiden who ^Gtoils her life a^Dway, with a w^Aorn heart whose be^A7tter days are ^Do'er. Though her ^Dvoice would be merry, 'tis ^Gsighing all the day, ^Doh, ^Ghard ti^Dmes ^Acome again no ^Dmore.

Tis the ^Dsong, the sigh of the ^Gwear^Dy, h^Dard times, hard times, ^E7come again no ^Amore. ^A7 Many d^Days you have lingered ar^Gound my cabin d^Door, ^Goh, ^Dhard times come a^Again no ^Dmore.

Tis a ^Dsigh that is wafted across the^G troubled wave, tis a ^Dwail that is h^Aeard u^A7pon the ^Dshore. Tis a ^Gdirge that is murmured ar^Dound the lowly grave; ^DOh, h^Gard t^Dimes c^Aome again no m^Dore.

Tis the ^Dsong, the sigh of the ^Gwear^Dy, h^Dard times, hard times, ^E7come again no ^Amore. ^A7 Many d^Days you have lingered ar^Gound my cabin d^Door, ^Goh, ^Dhard times come a^Again no ^Dmore.

^GOh, ^Dhard times ^Acome again no ^Dmore. D G D G D A D

^GOh, ^Dhard times ^Acome again no ^Dmore. . . .