Chords for North Country Blues - Bob Dylan cover

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_ _ _ Come gather round [Bb] friends, I'll tell you a tale.
_ _ [Cm] Oh, and the [Bb] red iron hole [Cm]-pitch was pretty,
With the carboards filled windows [Bb] and old men on the benches.
[Cm] Tell you [Bb] now that the whole [Cm] town is empty,
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And the town [Bb] I own for sure and I'm proud.
[Cm] But [Bb] I was raised [Cm] on the other,
In the way I was [Bb] abused, my mother took sick,
[Cm] And I [Bb] was brought up by [Cm] my mother.
_ _ _ _ _ _ Oh, the iron hole poured [Bb] as the year passed,
[Cm] The [Bb] drag lines and the shovel, [Cm] it was a haunted.
Till one day my [Bb] brother failed to come [Cm] home,
The same [Bb] as my father.
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_ _ _ _ _ _ And the long winters [Bb] wait for my window I watched,
[Cm] My friends, [Bb] they couldn't have [Cm] been kinder.
And my schooling was cut, [Bb] as I quit in the spring,
And [Cm] the [Bb] marriage don't almost [Cm] hit my nerve.
_ _ _ _ _ _ Oh, the years passed again, [Bb] and the giving was good,
[Cm] With a [Bb] lunch bucket filled [Cm] every season,
But with three babies born, [Bb] the work was cut down,
[Cm] To help a [Bb] day shift [Cm] with me. _
_ _ _ _ _ _ It was soon shot, [Bb] and more work was cut,
[Cm] And the fire [Bb] in the [Cm] air it felt frozen,
Till a man comes to speak, [Bb] and he said in one word,
[Cm] The number [Bb] eleven.
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_ _ _ _ _ He complained, in the east [Bb] they are paying too high,
[Cm] They say that [Bb] your ore [Cm] ain't worth a digit,
That it's much cheaper down [Bb] in the South American town,
[Cm] Where the miners [Bb] work [Cm] almost a minute. _ _
_ _ _ _ So the mining's gate locked, [Bb] and the red iron rotted,
[Cm] And the rooms [Bb] smell [Cm] heavy from drinking,
When the sad silence sung, [Bb] made the hour twice as long,
[Cm] Without waiting for [Bb] the sun [Cm] to go to sleep. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ I lay by the window [Bb] as he talked to himself,
[Cm] The [Bb] silence of song [Cm] it was building,
Till one morning the [Bb] week, the fit it was bad,
[Cm] And I was [Bb] left alone with [Cm] nature. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ Summer is gone, [Bb] the ground's turning cold,
[Cm] The stores one [Bb] by one [Cm] they're a-folding,
My children will go [Bb] as soon as they grow,
_ _ [Cm] Well there ain't a [Bb] thing here now [Cm] to hold.
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