NO PROVENANCE CAPO ON 3RD FRET Am E G F Allelu, allelu: Am I have died happy, E G F and lived to tell the tale to you. Am I have slept for forty years, E G F and woke to find me gone. Am G F I woke safe and warm in your arms. C (C7) In your arms F Dm Your arms G C B/C In your arms Am E G F Not informed of the natural law, Am E squatting, lordly, on a stool, in a stall, G F we spun gold clear out of straw. Am E And, when our bales of bullion G were stored, F you burned me like a barn. Am G F I burned safe and warm in your arms. C (C7) In your arms F Your arms Dm A I'm afraid of the Big Return. D C#/D Bm G There's a certain conversation lost, F# B and that loss incurred D with nobody remaining, E Am Bb A to register who had passed this way, D in the night, D C#/D Bm in the middle of the night G F# B7 (negating their grace and their sight), D E till only I remember, or mark, Am E how we had our talk: G F We took our ride, Am so that there was no-one home, E G and the lights of Rome F flickered and died. And, what's more, Am E I believe that you knew it, too; G F I think you saw their flares, Am G F and kept me safely unawares, C (C7) in your arms. F Dm In your arms G C B/C In your arms. Am E G F The grass was tall, and strung with burrs, Am I essayed that high sashay which, E G in my mind, was my way; F you hung behind, in yours. Am E Anyhow, she did not neigh. I do not know G F what drew our eyes to hers; Am G F that little black mare did not stir, C F till I lay down in your arms. Dm A D Poor old dirty little dog-size horse!— C#/D Bm G swaying and wheezing, F# B as a matter of course; D E swaying and wheezing, Am Bb as a matter of pride. A D C#/D Bm That poor old nag, not four palms wide, G F# B7 had waited a long time, D E coated in salt, Am Bb A D buckled like a ship run foul of the fence. D C#/D Bm In the middle of the night, G she'd sprung up, F# B no provenance, D E Am bearing the whites of her eyes. Bb And you, with your A D 'arrangement' with Fate, C#/D Bm nodded sadly at her lame assault G F# B on that steady old gate, D E Am E her faultlessly etiolated fishbelly-face; G F the muzzle of a ghost. Am And, pretty Johnny Appleseed, E via satellite feed, G tell us, who was it F that you then loved the most? Am Pretty Johnny Appleseed, E G leave a trail that leads F straight back down to the farm. Lay me down Am G F safe and warm in your arms. Am G A In your arms.