Тональность: D major•
Intro 1
D
G
D
Verse 1
D
Kind friends, you must listen
G
D
to my sorry tale
I'm an object of pity,
A
I'm looking quite stale
G
D
I give up my trade,
A
D
selling rights, patent pills
To go searchin' for gold
G
D
G
D
on the dreary black hills.
I got to Wyoming,
G
D
no gold could I find.
I thought of the lunch route
A
I'd left far behind.
G
D
Through rain, hail, and snow,
A
D
froze plumb to the gills.
They call me the orphan
G
D
G
D
of the dreary Black Hill.
The roundhouse in Cheyenne
G
D
is filled every night
With loafers and bummers
A
of most every plight.
G
D
On their backs is no clothes,
A
D
in their pockets no bills.
Each day they keep startin'
G
D
G
D
for the dreary black hills.
Oh, don't go away.
G
D
Stay at home if you can.
Stay away from that city
A
they call it Cheyenne.
G
D
Railroad speculators,
A
their pockets you'll fill
D
If you'd go for gold
G
on the dreary black hill.
Outro 1
D
G
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