Lucky

#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
Date: Fri, 8 Dec 1995 14:04:43 GMT+1
From: CHRISTER VARANchrister Varan 

 
Subject: CRD: Lucky by Fish

Hi, Fish lover.
Here's a song I like very much.....

                             - Lucky -
                 from the album "Acustic Session" by Fish



 D    
 C    
 G

 D    
 C    
 G


 D
He met with the world as a Dalkeith boy,
Raised from a shaft at Monktonhall
     
 C
In a well oiled cage,
                     
 G
That locked away his dreams.
   
 D
An '85 veteran facefrom the gallery,
A ghost from the civil war in the family,
   
 C
He stood his ground on the picketline.
 
 G
'Til all that he was left with,
         
 D
Were his father's cough
And his mother's eyes.
That would hold a tear
For the very first time,
         
 C                       
 G
When the government took his job away.
    
 D
Now fist in hand he'll stand in line.
Declare his name and mark his time.
   
 C                                
 G
To some the only proof that they're alive.


CHORUS:
                   
 F
He could have been you.        _|
He could have been me.          |
                   D#           |    x 2
He could have been anybody      |
(
 Bb)            
 F               |
But he was born lucky.         _|



 F    
 Eb    
 Bb


 F
He mad his first downpayment,
On a sharp Italian suit.
         
 Eb                    
 Bb
He sewed razor blades into the lapels,

 F
See him sweating on the dancefloor.
Coal dust oozing out of every pore.
  
 Eb
A hard man with a hard life,
             
 Bb
And that's a story that he'll tell you,
        
 F
Down at Easter Road till his throat is raw.
On a Saturday, he knows the score,

 Eb
Till the whistle blows and,
                       
 Bb
The tempers with their colours fade away.

{CHORUS}


 D    
 C    
 G
       
 D
On the helipads at Aberdeen
Bound for platforms drilling oil rich seas,
          
 C
Where the trawlers are getting fewer
      
 G
Every year.
       
 D
By the furnaces at Ravenscraig,
By the padlocks holding John Brown's gates,
       
 C                              
 G
In the desert, in the fields of South Armagh,
          
 D
Where the poppies grow,
Behind the Hampden roar,
Behind the drums in Genoa.
       
 C                                
 G
On the deck that rides a south Atlantic swell,

 D
Born to fight out of the tightest corner.
You can bet on him with the odds against you,

 C
They'll not put him down
                        
 G
No matter how hard they try.

{CHORUS}


Repeat


 F    
 Eb    
 Bb

till end.

Christer Varan

C.Varan@ET.TUDelft.NL