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E A B E D There is a road that meets the road That goes to my house A B E And how the green grows there A B E D And we've got special boots To beat the path to my house A B E And it's careful and it's careful when I'm there A B E D And I say your uncle was a crooked french canadian A B E And he was gut-shot running gin A B E D And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers A B E and how he held 'em How he held 'em held 'em in
F#m E And the water rolls down the drain F#m E The water rolls down the drain D O what a lonely thing E In a lonely drain A D E D July July July A D E D It never seemed so strange A D E D July July July A D E D A D E D It never seemed so strange never seemed so strange E A B E D This is the story of the road that goes to my house A B E And what ghosts there do remain A B E D And all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house A B E And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains A B E D And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient A B E Though the specifics might be vague A B E D And I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta A B E When in fact it was a nappy bluish grey F#m E And the water rolls down the drain F#m E The blood rolls down the drain D O what a lonely thing E In a blood red drain A D E D July July July A D E D It never seemed so strange A D E D July July July A D E D A D E D It never seemed so strange never seemed so strange E
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