Tom: B major•
Verse 1
E
B
E
B
E
He sits and he dreams,
F#
where his campfire gleams,
B
E
An old man of tribal renown.
So sad and alone
F#
in his true native home
B
E
A king without subjects or crown
E
but the scars on his breast
B
Tell stories so brave without doubt
E
Now he's fighting his oar,
F#
and he waits for the call
B
E
To go on that last walk about
The skill of the chase,
F#
once the pride of his race
B
E
Now fading from memory fast
F#
Like the wild kangaroo and stately emu,
B
E
Too soon will be things of the past.
A
There's a tale yet untold,
B
A tale far too long to describe.
B
E
B
E
once slaughtered the pick of his tribe.
So he gathered more braves
F#
from coastlands and caves
And fell, are told,
F#
like a wolf on the fold,
B
E
And humbled the pride of his foe.
A
But the brave he once led
They've melted away like the dew.
B
E
And his waddy and shield
F#
were left on the field
B
E
The day his last battle was through
His Louvre's asleep,
F#
where the supple jacks creep
B
E
All the limbs of the Banksy a tree
And her funeral dirge
F#
was the sad endless surge
B
E
Of the waves of the cold restless sea
A
Then disturb not his dreams
E
of bushlands and streams,
B
And deeds in the chase and the prey,
E
F#
Ere an alien race, without pity or grace,
B
E
A
E
Had trampled the pride of Canae. you
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesE B F# A
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