Tom: Ab major•
Verse 1
Ab
G
I love those who labor.
Ab
I sing of the farmers and
weavers
and fishermen and miners as well.
Now all you who hear me,
G
Ab
I pray you draw near me.
Fm
Ab
Before you grow weary,
I'll sing of myself.
I was brought up in plenty
Ab
a joy to myself as but children can be.
A joy to my father,
Fm
Ab
a joy to my mother.
Fm
Ab
The pain of my country
Db
Ab
was nothing to me.
My school days being over,
I became a rover
To Russia and China,
to France and to Spain.
I lived at my leisure,
I lived but for pleasure
Db
Ab
And so, none the wiser to England I came
Db
Ab
I thought it no danger
Ab
Bbm
Ab
But with time changing
a friend he became
For the joys of a lover can equal
no other forever anew,
Db
and yet always the same.
Ab
Good fortune attending,
we don't lack a living,
our children a blessing,
Gb
Ab
Eb
our joy to renew.
Ab
But to live amid plenty
can only torment me,
Db
Ab
Db
when the wealth of the country
Ab
Db
belongs to the few
Ab
Db
Ab
I join with the angry
Db
I join with a hungry for
Bbm
long years of anguish
Ab
the price will be paid to hate
and to I am not a stranger,
I welcome the danger,
Db
Ab
and yet I'm afraid.
For I fear the fate
Db
of the rebels and fighters
with torture and pain.
Gb
As the trial comes near,
Ab
if I find I can dare it,
Db
with joy I will share it,
Ab
Db
Ab
no longer afraid.
Db
Ab
For I've learned to be angry,
Db
I've learned to be lonely,
Ab
I've learned to be many,
I've learn to be one.
Db
Ab
even foes will commend me.
Db
I stand with the many.
Gb
Db
I am not alone.
Db
Ab
In the presence of fighters,
Db
Ab
In the company of workers,
replenish myself of miners
Ab
and weavers of rebels and dreamers
Db
Ab
when I sing of my brothers
I sing of myself
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AcordesAb G Fm Db Bbm...
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