调:Ab major
Verse 1
G
Am
G
Sundays, too, my father got up early
and put his clothes on
ached from labor
in the weekday weather,
No one ever thanked him.
I'd wake and hear the cold
splintering breaking.
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
speaking indifferently to him who
had driven out the cold
and polished my good
shoes as well.
What did I know?
What did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?
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调音器E A D G B E
和弦G Am F# C A
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