Campfire In The Dark

G Bm G
A G Bm
A G Bm

     D                         G             Em
My father rises early and he makes a sup of tea,
     A                  A7      G            D
he lights the kitchen stove and then he calls me.
    D                          G               Em
His days are often empty, he’s nothing much to do,
       A                 A7                D
so he sits and tells me stories of the travelling life he knew.

      Bm                           G
In the evening they would meet in lonely country lanes
   Bm                G
A field away you’ll hear a collie bark.
           Bm                      G
And they’d pass the time away with talks about the day,
  A                  G
standing round the campfire in the dark,
  A                  G
standing round the campfire in the dark

   D                               G                Em
My mother likes the house, the hot water and the rooms,
      A            A7              G              D
it’s warm in the winter and she’s handy with the broom.
   D                                 G               Em
Sometimes she makes colcannon, more often griddle bread,
            A            A7                D
there’s a hunger deep inside her for the travelling life thas dead

         Bm                         G
In the evening she would lift the black pot from the coals,
   Bm               G
‘a bit to eat‘ she always would remark.
            Bm                            G
There’d be vessels left to clean while children could be seen
  A                  G
playing round the campfire in the dark
  A                  G
playing round the campfire in the dark.

     D                            G                 Em
We’d go down to the pool hall to chat up the town boers,
    A                A7        G              D
sometimes at their discos we can’t get past the doors.
       D                              G             Em
We’re still tinkers to them and it’s thrown at our ears,
      A                A7             G                D
We’re still the awful strangers even after all these years

       D                               G                Em
And I think about my own life and the way that it will be,
    A                     A7       G            D
an escort van, a bit of dealing, a wife and a family.
   D.                          G                Em
Thursday I collect the dole, Friday pitch and toss,
            A              A7        G                  D
But on the site I think about the traveller’s way we’ve lost.

       Bm                               G                   Em
And I wish that I could rise, wash the sleep out of these eyes,
      Bm            G
and listen to the sweet song of the lark.
      Bm                       G
And I wish that I could be in campfire company,
          A                G
with the sound of horses moving in the dark,
          A                G
with the sound of horses moving in the dark,
          A                G
with the sound of horses moving moving in the dark.

Cifra adaptada de fontes públicas. Direitos da composição pertencem aos autores e gravadoras originais. Esta página é parte do projeto educacional Mania de Músico.