(The)Banks of the Nile (Trad arr Fotheringay) The Key per the CD is Cm although Trevor Lucas may be on Capo 3 The Bass is quite unhelpful as Pat Donaldson is very good but extremely economical. Also would have preferred him to play a G under the F(6)s rather than the Cs. The whole is a bit loose for me as the triplets played by Jerry and Trevor seem disassociated with voice, and its hard to know where to come in. This version is not so different to Version 1, so no implied criticism meant. intro: Cm7 F(6)/C ad lib Cm7 F (6 fr.)/C Eb Bb/D Cm7 F(6)/C Cm7 Oh hark! the drums do beat, my love, no longer can we stay. m7 F(6)/C Cm7 Bb (Bb Cm Eb F (6 fr.) Gm7 The bugle-horns are sounding clear, and we must march away. Cm7 F(6)/C Cm7 Bb (Bb Cm Eb F (6 fr.) Gm7 We're ordered down to Portsmouth, and it's many the weary mile. Cm7 F (6 fr.)/C Cm7 Bb Cm7 F(6)/C Cm7 To join the British Army on the banks of the Nile. Capo 3 intro: Am7 D(6)/A ad lib Am7 D (6 fr.)/A C G/B Am7 D(6)/A Am7 Oh hark! the drums do beat, my love, no longer can we stay. Am7 D(6)/A Am7 G (G Am C D (6 fr.) Em7 The bugle-horns are sounding clear, and we must march away. Am7 D(6)/A Am7 G (G Am C D (6 fr.) Em7 We're ordered down to Portsmouth, and it's many the weary mile. Am7 D (6 fr.)/A Am7 G Am7 D(6)/A Am7 To join the British Army on the banks of the Nile. Oh Willie, dearest Willie, don't leave me here to mourn, Don't make me curse and rue the day that ever I was born. For the parting of our love would be like parting with my life. So stay at home, my dearest love, and I will be your wife. Oh my Nancy, dearest Nancy, sure that will never do. The government has ordered, and we are bound to go. The government has ordered, and the Queen she gives command. And I am bound on oath, my love, to serve in a foreign land. Oh, but I'll cut off my yellow hair, and I'll go along with you. I'll dress myself in uniform, and I'll see Egypt too. I'll march beneath your banner while fortune it do smile, And we'll comfort one another on the banks of the Nile. But your waist it is too slender, and your fingers they are too small. In the sultry suns of Egypt your rosy cheeks would spoil. Where the cannons they do rattle, when the bullets they do fly, And the silver trumpets sound so loud to hide the dismal cries. Oh, cursed be those cruel wars, that ever they began, For they have robbed our country of many the handsome men. They've robbed us of our sweethearts while their bodies they feed the lions, On the dry and sandy deserts which are the banks of the Nile.