Chords for Phil Brown

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I lived in Freeport for a while.
It was one of the funnest times of my life. _ _
_ _ _ I remember the night Leighton's store burned down.
_ _ [Eb] _ And I'm sure not many of you do.
It was like early October.
It might have been even, was it, it was October,
it might have been Halloween. _
_ _ _ _ _ [Ab] I was on the corner up there. _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
And I'd written a bunch [Db] of tunes while I was, _ _ _
before I had [Ab] moved here, and then I wrote a bunch
while I was here.
_ [Eb] _ _ _ _ And I grew up in a little [Ab] town called Dover, Foxtrot, which
is up in the central [Db] part of Maine.
_ _ And it's about the size [Ab] of Freeport before the boom,
really. _
_ [Eb] _ It's like Freeport with no [Ab] stores.
Can you imagine? _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ It's a song about an old man I used to hang out
with in the gas station.
He used to come down and hang out with [Db] us guys
and bum cigarettes [Eb] and sit around and _ philosophize. _ _
[Ab] His name was Phil Brown.
I wrote this song for him a long time ago. _ _ _ _ _
I knew [Db] Vader _ _ [Eb] in my [Fm] younger days, _ [Ab]
a man
who lived with brushes, sticks, and _ stones.
_ [Eb] _ _ [Ab] His days were filled with [Db] canvas scenes [Eb] of browns and [Ab] blues
[Fm] and meadow greens.
[Cm] And the world [Ab] just passed [Db] on by [Ab] his door.
[Eb] He lived [Ab] but lived alone. _
_ _ _ And he'd come [Eb] to town _ [Fm] with his old wool [Cm] hat pulled [Db] down,
surrounded by [Ab] the dogs that were [Eb] his friend. _
_ _ And [Ab] if time was too drunk [Eb] to stand,
[Fm] he'd shake familiar [Cm] _ hands [Db] and mistle around [Ab] the SO station
[Eb] till his loneliness would [Ab] end.
_ I [Db] knew Vader _
[Eb] in my [Fm] reckless days, _
_ [Ab] rustled [Db] bearded, humble [Ab] on his feet.
[Eb] _ _ _ _
[Ab] A sympathetic _ [Db] sad old elf, [Eb] he knew me better [Fm] than I
knew myself [Cm] in the [Ab] last days [Db] of my [Ab] boyhood,
[Eb] in my time [Ab] out on the street.
_ _ _ And long through the [Eb] night, _ [Fm] a faded yellow _ light
[Db] would burn _ inside [Ab] the room where he [Eb] would sit _
_ _ _ [Ab] and play the old [Eb] mectola _ [Fm] and drink his rusty [Cm] wine
_ [Ab] [Db] and conduct the Mozart [Ab] music with [Eb] his heart in [Ab] a shaking hand.
_ _ [Eb] _ [Ab] _ _
_ [Eb] But he could paint a picture. _
_ [Ab] He could capture life.
_ [Eb] _ _ No one ever felt things [Ab] more than he.
[Db] _ _ [Ab] _
And he [Eb] was never much for roses.
_ [Ab] _ He'd sooner paint [Fm] the [Db] thorns, because he
found a keener beauty there [Bbm] that no one [Eb] else could see.
_ _ _ _ [Ab] _
Someone [Db] bought the house he lived in
and [Eb] [Fm] painted up the room he died in,
[Cm]
swept [Db] away the _ cobwebs [Ab] and the dust from off the [Eb] floor.
_ _ _ [Ab]
Children laughed [Db] as seasons [Fm] run.
[Eb]
Young lovers [Fm] roll in midnight [Ab] fun,
but no one loves [Db] more than the [Ab] one [Eb] who paints the world [Ab] no more. _
_ _ _ And long through [Eb] the night, [Fm] a faded yellow [Cm] _ [Ab] light
[Db] would burn _ [Ab] inside the room where he [Eb] would stand _
_ _ and [Ab] _ play the [Eb] old mectola _ [Fm] and drink his rusty [C] wine
[Ab] and _ [Db] conduct the Mozart [Ab] _ music [Eb] with his heart in a [Ab] shaking hand. _ _
_ _ _ [Db] _ _ [Eb] _ _ _
[Ab] _ _ [Db] _ _ _ [Ab] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Eb] _ _ _ _ [Ab] _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [N] _ _ _
That's Mr.
Huffington.
He's a great artist. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ [B] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [N] On the bass over here, the great upright bass, Mr.
Mike Burr. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ You know, with a simple twist of fate,
that could have wound up as a floor when you think about it.
Or a chest [F] of drawers.
A little shift around in the warehouse, it's like. _
_ [C] _ _ [F] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ [C] _
_ _ _ _ [Bb] _ _ [F] You remember when I lived in Freeport, don't [Bb] you, Mike?
Mike and I have been [C] working together for _ 26 _ [F] _ _
years.
[C] _ _ _ _ [Dm] _ _
[F] _ _ _ [Bb] _ _ [C] _ _ _
[G] _ _ [F] _ On my right on the fiddle and viola,
the lovely Miss Susan Ramsey. _
_ _ [C] _ _ _ _ [Bb] _ _
_ [F] _ _ _ [Bb] _ _ _ _
_ [C] _ _ _ _ _ [F] _ _
_ _ _ _ _ [N] _ _ _