E
A B E D
There is a road that meets the road That goes to my house
A B E
And how the green grows there
A B E D
And we've got special boots To beat the path to my house
A B E
And it's careful and it's careful when I'm there
A B E D
And I say your uncle was a crooked french canadian
A B E
And he was gut-shot running gin
A B E D
And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers
A B E
and how he held 'em How he held 'em held 'em in
F#m E
And the water rolls down the drain
F#m E
The water rolls down the drain
D
O what a lonely thing
E
In a lonely drain
A D E D
July July July
A D E D
It never seemed so strange
A D E D
July July July
A D E D A D E D
It never seemed so strange never seemed so strange
E
A B E D
This is the story of the road that goes to my house
A B E
And what ghosts there do remain
A B E D
And all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house
A B E
And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains
A B E D
And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient
A B E
Though the specifics might be vague
A B E D
And I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta
A B E
When in fact it was a nappy bluish grey
F#m E
And the water rolls down the drain
F#m E
The blood rolls down the drain
D
O what a lonely thing
E
In a blood red drain
A D E D
July July July
A D E D
It never seemed so strange
A D E D
July July July
A D E D A D E D
It never seemed so strange never seemed so strange
E
A