Chords for TIM HART AND MADDY PRIOR ~ THE STATELY SOUTHENER
Tempo:
84.3 bpm
Chords used:
F
Eb
C
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
She was a stately southerner, that flew the stars and bars,
The whistling wind from the west-northwest flew through her pitch-blind spars,
As like an eagle swiftly on she flew before the gale,
Till late that night she raised alive the old head of Kinsale.
No thought was there of shortening sale by him who trod the poop,
Nor by the weight of a ponderous jib that boomed like a hoop,
A groaning chest restored the strain that bore the stout main tack,
But he only laughed as he gazed above at the bright and silvery tride.
It was a fine and a cloudless night, the breeze held steady and strong,
As gaily o'er the shining deep our good ship bowled along,
In foam beneath the trumpling boughs the mounting wave she spread,
A-stooping low her breast of snow she buried her leek and head.
What [F] blooms upon the star-burd bow, what hangs upon the breeze,
Tis [N] time the packet of oars are wind-up, rest the old salties,
For by a mighty press of sail that gold-leashed ponderous [Eb] spar,
That ship we spied on the misty tide, what a British man of war.
Outer booms, out booms, our [C] skipper cried, Out booms and give her sheet,
And the [N] swiftest ship that ever was launched, Shot away from the British fleet,
As Mr Mudros hailed of short-haired stun-sails hoisting away,
Down Channel Clip, old Jones did steer, Just at the break of day.
The whistling wind from the west-northwest flew through her pitch-blind spars,
As like an eagle swiftly on she flew before the gale,
Till late that night she raised alive the old head of Kinsale.
No thought was there of shortening sale by him who trod the poop,
Nor by the weight of a ponderous jib that boomed like a hoop,
A groaning chest restored the strain that bore the stout main tack,
But he only laughed as he gazed above at the bright and silvery tride.
It was a fine and a cloudless night, the breeze held steady and strong,
As gaily o'er the shining deep our good ship bowled along,
In foam beneath the trumpling boughs the mounting wave she spread,
A-stooping low her breast of snow she buried her leek and head.
What [F] blooms upon the star-burd bow, what hangs upon the breeze,
Tis [N] time the packet of oars are wind-up, rest the old salties,
For by a mighty press of sail that gold-leashed ponderous [Eb] spar,
That ship we spied on the misty tide, what a British man of war.
Outer booms, out booms, our [C] skipper cried, Out booms and give her sheet,
And the [N] swiftest ship that ever was launched, Shot away from the British fleet,
As Mr Mudros hailed of short-haired stun-sails hoisting away,
Down Channel Clip, old Jones did steer, Just at the break of day.
Key:
F
Eb
C
F
Eb
C
F
Eb
She was a stately southerner, that flew the stars and bars,
The whistling wind from the west-northwest flew through her pitch-blind spars,
As like an eagle swiftly on she flew before the gale,
Till late that night she raised alive the old head of Kinsale. _
No thought was there of shortening sale by him who trod the poop,
Nor by the weight of a ponderous jib that boomed like a hoop,
A groaning chest restored the strain that bore the stout main tack,
But he only laughed as he gazed above at the bright and silvery _ tride.
It was a fine and a cloudless night, the breeze held steady and strong,
As gaily o'er the shining deep our good ship bowled along,
In foam beneath the trumpling boughs the mounting wave she spread,
A-stooping low her breast of snow she buried her leek and head.
_ What [F] blooms upon the star-burd bow, what hangs upon the breeze,
Tis [N] time the packet of oars are wind-up, rest the old salties,
For by a mighty press of sail that gold-leashed ponderous [Eb] spar,
That ship we spied on the misty tide, what a British man of war.
_ _ Outer booms, out booms, our [C] skipper cried, Out booms and give her sheet,
And the [N] swiftest ship that ever was launched, Shot away from the British fleet,
As Mr Mudros hailed of short-haired stun-sails hoisting away,
Down Channel Clip, old Jones did steer, Just at the break of day. _ _ _ _ _
The whistling wind from the west-northwest flew through her pitch-blind spars,
As like an eagle swiftly on she flew before the gale,
Till late that night she raised alive the old head of Kinsale. _
No thought was there of shortening sale by him who trod the poop,
Nor by the weight of a ponderous jib that boomed like a hoop,
A groaning chest restored the strain that bore the stout main tack,
But he only laughed as he gazed above at the bright and silvery _ tride.
It was a fine and a cloudless night, the breeze held steady and strong,
As gaily o'er the shining deep our good ship bowled along,
In foam beneath the trumpling boughs the mounting wave she spread,
A-stooping low her breast of snow she buried her leek and head.
_ What [F] blooms upon the star-burd bow, what hangs upon the breeze,
Tis [N] time the packet of oars are wind-up, rest the old salties,
For by a mighty press of sail that gold-leashed ponderous [Eb] spar,
That ship we spied on the misty tide, what a British man of war.
_ _ Outer booms, out booms, our [C] skipper cried, Out booms and give her sheet,
And the [N] swiftest ship that ever was launched, Shot away from the British fleet,
As Mr Mudros hailed of short-haired stun-sails hoisting away,
Down Channel Clip, old Jones did steer, Just at the break of day. _ _ _ _ _