Hull or Hell Chumbawamba
CAPO V
G C x2
Of la[G]rks trains w[C]indows and brooks
The po[G]et he writes it all d[C]own in his book
W[G]on't meet your eye but he wa[C]nts you to look
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
La[G]mbs in the winter and sw[C]ans in the spring
Ch[G]ildren at play they're like bi[C]rds on the wing
And the p[G]oet he writes that the s[C]un seems to swing
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
Aw[G]ay from the world and aw[C]ay from the page
Hi[G]dden in corners the g[C]athering of age
Retrea[G]ts to the wings where he o[C]nce held the stage
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
The d[G]irt and the filth that we do[C]n't get to see
That[G]'s eating his language a[C]way
This ye[G]llow-eyed nastiness h[C]ides from the light of the d[Am]ay[D] [Am] [D]
G C x2
Resen[G]ting the everyday gro[C]wing so old
Where win[G]ter once pictured as flo[C]wers in fold
Turned fro[G]sty and bitter and we[C]athered and cold
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
In H[Am]ull or hell he l[D]ies
... (Repeat and fade)
His h[G]ousemaid she tried but the di[C]rt grew so fast
The darkest[G] of colours he n[C]ailed to the mast
Stu[G]ck in his ways like he's st[C]uck in the past
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