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[Intro]
G C G C
G C
G G C
By the banks of the river
[Verse 1]
G C G C
Where the willows hang down
G D/F# Em
The wild birds they warble
C G C
With a low moaning sound
G D/F# Em
Way down in the hollow
C G C
Where the river runs cold
Csus2/B F
It was there I first listened
C G C
To the lies that you told
G C G C
Now I lie on my back
[Verse 2]
G C G C
And I see your sweet face
G D/F# Em
A past I remember
C G C
Time can't erase
G D/F# Em
And letters you wrote me
C G C
They were written in shame
G Csus2/B F C G C G C
And know that your conscience still echoes my name
[Interlude]
G C G C G C G D/F#
Em C G C G C
Em C G C G Csus2/B
F C G C
G G C
Now if the ladies were blackbirds
[Verse 3]
G C G C
If the ladies were thrushes
G D/F# Em
Well I'd lie there for hours
C G C
In the chilly cold marshes
G D/F# Em
And if the women were squirrels
C G C
With them high bushy tails
G Csus2/B F
Well I'd load up my shotgun
C G C
With rock salt and nails
G F C
I'd load up my shotgun
[Outro]
| G C | G - |
[Intro]
| G C | G C | G C | G - |
| G C |
By the banks of the river
[Verse 1]
| G C | G C | G D/F# |
| Em - | C - | G C | G D/F# |
| Em - | C - | G C | - Csus2/B |
| F - | C - | G C | G C |
| G C |
Where the willows hang down
The wild birds they warble
With a low moaning sound
Way down in the hollow
Where the river runs cold
It was there I first listened
To the lies that you told
Now I lie on my back
[Verse 2]
| G C | G C | G D/F# |
| Em - | C - | G C | G D/F# |
| Em - | C - | G C | G Csus2/B |
| F - | C - | G C | G C |
And I see your sweet face
A past I remember
Time can't erase
And letters you wrote me
They were written in shame
And know that your conscience still echoes my name
[Interlude]
| G C | G C | G C | G D/F# |
| Em - | C - | G C | G C |
| Em - | C - | G C | G Csus2/B |
| F - | C - | G C | G - |
| G C |
Now if the ladies were blackbirds
[Verse 3]
| G C | G C | G D/F# |
| Em - | C - | G C | G D/F# |
| Em - | C - | G C | G Csus2/B |
| F - | C - | G C | G - |
| F - | C - |
If the ladies were thrushes
Well I'd lie there for hours
In the chilly cold marshes
And if the women were squirrels
With them high bushy tails
Well I'd load up my shotgun
With rock salt and nails
I'd load up my shotgun
[Outro]
| G C | G - |
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