Highland County Boy Scott Miller & the Commonwealth Thus Always to Tyrants ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I just got back from a Scott Miller performance at Rhythm and Roots. While there, I met him and told him that I transposed this from the fiddle to the guitar. He asked me show him, so I did. He responded that it was "very good" and "sounds perfect". ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Things to remember when playing this song: -The guitar is silent during verses. -Have a friend clap or stomp a marching beat while playing. Chorus: e|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------| G|-0-0-4-0-2-0-----|-2-2-2-0-4---2-0-| D|-------------0---|-----------------| A|-----------------|-----------------| E|-----------------|-----------------| e|-----------------|-----------------| B|-0-0-4-0-2-0-----|-2-4-2---0-0-----| G|-------------0---|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------| A|-----------------|-----------------| E|-----------------|-----------------| e|-3-------3-------| B|-0-------0-------| G|-0-------0-------| D|-0-------0-------| A|-2-------2-------| E|-3-------3-------| Verse 1: I am a Highland County boy, William is my name. I've farmed those rocky hills before, the Jackson is the James. Well, my brothers they all joined the cause but I was left behind too old to hold in Momma's arms and much to frail to fight. I remember the day they marched away, they sang down Richmond Road. Ol' Lincoln's bound, like ol' John Brown, for the long end of a rope. (Repeat Chorus) Verse 2: One died at Manasses, sir, one at Malvern Hill. After makin' it through that, Archer, he took ill. Charlie's lost but not confirmed, when they fall at Cross Keys. The las sight that they had of him was crawling through the weeds. A letter said a shower of lead, it hit the men down low. Now they dance around, like ol' John Brown, on the long end of a rope. (Repeat Chorus) Verse 3: A spark, a plow, a rock hits now, the only fight I've known. The songs of vict'ry that they sing don't help the seeds I've sown. Tears of wickedness and self-conciet, it is the dain of man. The farmer and the land compete as God's first repremend. There'll be a day the blue and gray will hear the trumpets blow. When they dance around, like ol' John Brown, on the long end of a rope. Yeah, they'll dance around like ol' John Brown on the long end of a rope. (Repeat Chorus) Outro: e|---------------3-| B|---------------0-| G|-0-2-4-2-0---0-0-| D|-----------0-----| A|---------------2-| E|---------------3-|