Fools

(início)

     F#m                          A
 All in the golden afternoon full leisurely we glide
     B                                    D
 For both our oars, with little skill, by little arms are plied
      F#m                          A
 While little hands make vain pretence our wanderings to guide
      B          D
 Our wanderings to guide
     F#m                          A
 Ah, Cruel Three ! in such an hour, beneath such dreamy weather
      B                                    D
 To beg a tale of breath too weak  to stir the tiniest feather
      F#m                          A
 Yet what can one poor voice avail against three tongues together
      B                   D
 Against three tongues together
     F#m                          A
 Anon, to sudden silence won, in fancy they pursue
      B                                    D
 The dream child moving through a land of wonders wild and new
      F#m                          A
 In friendly chat with bird or beast - and half believe it true
      B            D
 And half believe it true
     F#m                          A
 And ever, as the story drained the wells of fancy dry
      B                                    D
 And faintly strove that weary one to put the subject by
      F#m                          A
 "The next time -- it is next time" the happy voices cry !
      B           D
 The happy voices cry !
     F#m                          A
 Thus grew the tale of wonderland, thus slowly one by one
      B                                    D
 It's quaint events were hammered out - and now the tale is done
      F#m                A
 And home we steer a merry crew
      B              D
 Beneath the setting sun.