The Guitar
Darren Hanlon
- Am
- C
- Em
- G
Continúa después del anuncio
Tono:
Am It was a sunday in east Berlin iG chanced upon a market i though how love or lack thereofAm matched the coins in my pocket but thats ok i have no pay im happyG all the same to look through a box of brokenAm clocks and old Atari gamesC G and racks of army uniforms of bothAm the west and eastC and postcards sent to people whoG Am were long ago deceasedAm a plastic orange comb left overG from the GDR and in a nook behind some books anAm old parlour guitarAm it was sat upon a wooden packingG crate that had been flipped and if the chance the cursory glanceAm youd call it non descript but i double took i stopped to lookG and its just one of those things i do when at a loss i reached acrossAm and lightly brushed the stringsC the sound both deep and ancientG Am came up from the hole beneathC the kind that comes from timberG Am given in to times bequethedC G enough for me to wonder i put upAm my hand to haleC the vendor of the table just toEm Am ask... if its for sale [Break]Am well he had a chin with whiskersG in and in between his lips he held a cigarette he hadnt lit iAm took him for a gypsy he stooped and bent and complimentedG me on my selection to my surprise within his eyes i sawAm my own reflectionC G i dont him im not buying im justAm interested to knowC so i thought how love or lackG Am thereof matched my fiscal flowC he asked me for my name and whenG Am he handed it to meC he said it undignified to talk ofEm Am money... before history [Break] and then he said....Am if you hold it right up to theG light in pencil can be seen the signature of the luthier and theAm date 1918 but sir have you got the certificateG of authenticity he said whats the point when you canAm get the story straight from meAm a russian commander first saw itG in a shop window in munich he was on a stroll and felt the rollAm of deutchmarks in his tunic he bought it on a whim and to hisG friend the commisar said if i survive this war alive illAm learn to play guitarC G he had one final 7 weekAm assignment with his unitG and im sad to say he was blownAm away before he learned to tune itContinúa después del anuncio[Break]Am it was sent back to his greivingG widow with the rest of his effects and it languished there under theAm stair right where the dust collects but there came a day when she passedG away as well and without kin so through her stash and it was labelled trash and put out with theAm binC it was only sitting on that lonelyG Am street in LeningradC for an hour or two before beingG Am rescued up by a young lad he was on the hop afraid to stop forG long for fear of prison a balchevik who had been madeAm awefully sick by communismC he was disenchanted by theG Am practice of the party schemeC how it proved all men are equalG Am seemed to be a tad extremeC he walked down by the baltic seaG Am and there he hopped a freigterC and not a word was heard from himEm Am again... until many years later [Break]Am the old man stopped to rest and get his breath and his eyes theyG started glazing over i told him this story was bothAm trajic and amazing oh dont stop now i must know howG this ends and please be quick do you know whht became of thisAm mutanous balchevik? [Break] well the old gyspy looked back at meG and his eyes they seemed to clear he said in 34 he went ashore in theAm city of Tangier but he came undone as hed becomeG from all those years at sea addicted to, as sailors do, portAm wine and gin rummyC G and one night in a game in a cafeAm near the medinaC as the hour grew ever late theG Am balchies kitty it grew leanerC and when his francs were gone heG Am prayed upon the evening starC they took the coat that he wasEm wearing, watch and ring....and thatAm guitar [Break]Am it was won by a german banker whoG liked it all just fine who'd grown soft with drinkingAm thinking of his frauline while still abroad he'd learned someG chords and in a few months later when hes again back in berlin hedAm sit and serenade herC he was held back in Morocco by theG Am start of World War IIC and he learnt she'd met a youngG cadet and the two of them shotAm throughAm he cursed and spat and vowed thatG as long as she still lingered he'd much rather than play guitar,Am cut off all his fingers [Break]Am well i felt sorry for this bankerG but it just didnt alignAm if its 34 didnt the war begin in 39? Pedant! he cried, would you deny meG a single concession just let me tell you how this thingAm came into my possession. i bought it from a local pedler, whoG bought it from a priest who drove his congregation mad withAm it to say the least he'd picked it up for next toG nothing browsing at a parish fete donated out of charity from aAm deceased estate [Accel] of a lovely music teacher who playedG it for her pupils who'd earlier procured it from a manAm with dubious scrupols who'd pinched it from a folk rockG busker somewhere in the town who'd been playing in AlexanderplatzAm the night the wall came down he got it cheaply off a man who runG a music store for cash who swapped it from a trader with aAm handlebar moustache who found it in a paper where it hadG been advertised by the son of that German bankerAm who's old girlfriend he despised you'd think any normal person wouldG have just gone out and sold it but he kept it as a token of theAm time he was cuckolded he hid it in his attick and itG survived the war up there for 30 years until his son wentAm looking for a chair his dad refused to talk of it untilG he turned up his toes but now its found its way to youAm just give me 400 Euros.Am The blood drained right out of theG gypsy's face til it was ashen he seemed to be completely overcomeAm by his own passion i couldnt bare to think this wasG elaborate salesman patter but like i said i had no bread so itAm really didnt matter the story clanged and banged aroundG my head for the whole day in spite of all the other things iAm saw it wouldnt strayC G before i even knew it i foundAm myself later onC rushing back to the gypsy but theEm Am guitar.... and he were gone [Break]Am ive learnt that what you dont buyG today may not be there tomorrow and you are never strictly poor ifAm youve a friend from which to borrow i thought the old gypsy knew thisG before he ever saw me because when i went Sunday, he wasAm waiting for meC Ive one more thing to sing myG Am friends, if i may be so bold,C the guitar of which i sing, is theG Am one which i now holdAm and to think of love, and the fullness of, is something i get fromG it and this song i sing wont mean aAm thing unless its played upon it.