调：Db major•
Verse 1
Db
Gb
Ab
Db
All day
on the
Db
Ab
Not even a dog hoist to trot by my side
Db
Gb
Ab
Db
back.
For want of an oven
Db
Ab
And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.
My books are the brooks,
Db
Gb
Ab
Db
on his pulpit of bones.
And then if my cooking's
Db
Ab
You can't blame me for wanting to eat
My books teach me ever
Db
Gb
Ab
Gb
Db
I should not des pise.
My parson remarks from
Ab
Db
Some lucky fellow may call her his bride.
Db
Gb
Ab
Db
and women have beef.
But why, it is I can ne 'er
For each of the patriarchs
Db
Bbm
Abraham emigrated in search of a range
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