Three Horses

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[Verse 1]
       F#m           A
In the early dawn a stallion white
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Prances the hills in the morning light.
    D         A            D           A
His bridle is painted with thunder and gold,
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Orchids and dragons, pale knights of old.
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He is the horse of the ages p - ast.
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And now the children run to see the stallion on the hill,
A6                  F#m        D               A
Bringing bags of apples and of clover they have filled.
        D                     A
And the white horse tells his stories
        D                A
Of the days now past and gone
        D               A
And the children stand a-wondering
   D             A
Believing every song.
     G                 Bm  A
How brightly glows the p-ast.

[Instrumental]
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[Verse 2]
         F#m                 A
When the sun is high comes a mare so red,
   F#m                         A
A'trampling the graves of the living and dead.
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Her mantle is heavy with mirrors and glass,
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All is reflected when the red mare does pass.
           G                     Bm  A
She is the horse of the here and n - ow.
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And now there is confusion 'mongst the children on the hill.
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They cling to one a-nother and no longer can be still.
          D                   A
While the red mare’s voice is trembling
       D               A
With a rare and mighty call,
     D                A
The children start re-membering
    D               A
The bearers and the pall.
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And though their many-colored sweaters
       D              A
Are re-flected in the glass,
               D                 A
And though the sun shines down upon them,
          D                A
They are frightened in the grass.
    G                     Bm  A
How stark is the here and n - ow.


[Instrumental]
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[Verse 3]
     F#m                     A
When night does fall comes a stallion black,
   F#m               A
so proud and tall he never looks back.
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He wears him no emeralds, silver or gold,
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not even a covering to keep him from cold.
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He is the horse of the years to c - ome.
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And I will get me down before this steed upon my knees
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And sing to him the sorrows of a thousand centuries.
         D                A
And the children now will scatter
         D                 A
as their mothers call them home,
        D              A
for the sadness of the evening horse
   D              A
No child has ever known.
    D                 A
And I will hang about him
       D                     A
a bell that’s never rung
    D                      A
and thank him for the many words
      D                    A
which from his throat have never sprung.
               D               A
And I’ll thank God and all the angels
         D               A
That the stallion of the evening,
     D                 A
The black horse of the future,
         G                Bm  A
comes to earth but has no to-ngue.