Traditional

Traditional

Grave Of Bonaparte
nível sem nível
G                                 C             D 
On a lone, barren isle, where the wild, roaring billows 
                              G            D 
Assail the stern rock and the loud tempest raves, 
    G                         C            G 
The hero lies still where the dew drooping willows 
     C             G              D        G 
Like fond, weeping mourners, lean over his grave 
         D                           G            C 
     The lightning may flash and the loud thunder rattle. 
                  G                  D     A       D 
     He eats not, he hears not, he's free from all pain. 
        G                             C               G 
     He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle. 
        C         G            D      G 
     No sound can awake him to glory again. 
                   C           D      G 
     No sound can awake him to glory again. 
 
G                             C           D 
Oh shade of the mighty, where now are the legions 
                                 G               D 
That rushed but to conquer, when thou ledst them on? 
 G                          C         G 
Alas, they have perished in far hilly regions, 
    C             G              D          G 
And all, save the fame, of their triumph is gone. 
         D                         G           C 
     The trumpet may sound and the loud cannon rattle. 
                        G                 D    A        D 
     They eat not, they hear not, they're free from all pain. 
          G                                 C                 G 
     They sleep their last sleep, they have fought their last battle. 
        C          G            D      G 
     No sound can awake them to glory again. 
                   C            D      G 
     No sound can awake them to glory again. 
 
G                         C           D 
Yet, spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee. 
                               G             D 
For like thine own eagle, that soared to the Sun, 
     G                           C         G 
Thou springest from bondage, and leavest behind thee, 
  C             G             D          G 
A name which, before thee, no mortal had won. 
          D                       G             C 
     Tho' nations may combat, and war's thunder rattle, 
                    G               D     A        D 
     No more on thy steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plain. 
          G                                  C               G 
     Thou sleep'st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle. 
        C          G            D      G 
     No sound can awake thee to glory again. 
                   C             D      G 
     No sound can awake thee  to glory again. 
 
 
See ya 
 
-Bo Parker 
[email protected] (<- MAIL to this address.  
                            REPLIES to this address will probably bounce.) 
 
"And if one more person says to me, they can't stand the "twang," I think 
 I just might gingerly poke 'em in the eye. This is not like eating okra." 
 
                                                       --Linda Ellis

Enviado por: anônimo

Corrigido por: sem correções