Wee Small Hours

(início)

Intro:
        C
        /  [drum fill]
Verse 1:
                C                  Fm
        In the wee small hours of sixpence
                 C             Fm
        And the lighted chandelier
                  Dm   Em        F     C
        Stands a rusty    old retainer
                  Abdim [N.C.]          C/G
        Whose old eyes are filled with tears
        For his master, good Sir Gallant
        Who is now off to the wars
        And although his eyes are crying
        We know grief is not the cause
Chorus 1:
                 F     F#dim     C
        And if grief is not the reason
                F     F#dim     C
        He must be of sterner stuff
                  F              Am/E  Dm
        And his sword, though old and rusty
                  G       /F     /E    /D
        Must be blunt as sharp enough
Verse 2:
        In the wee small hours of sixpence
        And the broken windowpane
        Stand the remnants of the evening
        Who are waiting all in vain
        For the crowing of the cockroach
        Sure as morning is not night
        But the air is filled with silence
        And the day bright is not light
Chorus 2:
        But still darkness is no reason
        We are men of sterner stuff
        And our swords, though old and rusty
        Still are blunt as sharp enough
Instrumental break [key changes to D]:
        D        Bm       D/A       Bm
        / / / /   / / / /   / / / /   / / / /
        G   Bm/F# Em        A   /G   /F#  /E
        / / / /   / / / /   / / / /   / / / /
Verse 3:
                D                 Gm
        In the wee small hours of sixpence
                 D                Gm
        And the hat stand in the hall
                 Em  F#m          G       D
        Waiting only     for the morning
                Bbdim [N.C.]        D/A
        Shadows flitting 'cross the wall
        And perhaps that old retainer
        Who now giving of his all
        May have once been just as we are
        And now has no face at all
Chorus 3:
                    G      G#dim     D
        But still grief was not the reason
                G      G#dim     D
        He was made of sterner stuff
                  G              Bm/F# Em
        And his sword, though old and rusty
                    A       /G     /F#   /E
        Still was blunt as sharp enough