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If you're looking for the historical beginnings, there are a couple of legends you shouldn't miss.

Son House.
Leadbelly.
Robert Johnson.

Those guys pretty much birthed the thing.

The problem with chordies listings is that they always give you the chord diagrams from the nut.  Most of those three and four chord ditties are way easier to play barred, which means that transposing them is as simple as moving your hand a few frets one way or another.

I agree that songs listed in a key other than what the original was played in is frustrating.  A cappo isn't the tool I'd use to fix it, though.

Transposition isn't hard.  I think this could be a good opportunity to learn just a little theory, and how it applies to the fretboard.

Soccer is only interesting when it's played on ice, with sticks and a puck. 

You can substitute in any 7 chord variant for a 13.    7, 9, or 11 chords will work just as well.  They're all variants of the 7, so they switch in and out nicely.

Here is an absolutely true story to amuse you. This happened to me, so I was there, and I couldn't make this up anyway.  Besides, random strangers on the internet would never lie to you.

So, this happened in the early 90s when I was in the Army, just after the 1st Gulf War.  The hostilities had ended and we were taking a little R&R (we being me and my friend Theibedoux) by going on a tour of the desert sands around Riyadh.  Theib was a big dumb Cajun from Louisiana.  I'm from Enumclaw, so we shared the "redneck" gene somewhere, which is why we got along so well.  So anyway, we're with this tour group, and we are way way out in the middle of the sand looking at some Bedouin artifact or another.   Theib and I wander off a bit, and before you know it, we're lost as lost can be.  And in the Saudi desert, that's seriously lost.

So we do what solders do. We started walking.  And I think we may have marched half way around the damn subcontinent, because it was getting late, and we were about out of water.   So off in the distance, we see a bunch of palm trees and what appears to be a group of Bedouins making themselves comfortable underneath it.  The closer we get, the bigger the camp site looks like, and when we finally get there, there had to be 300 people setting up for some kind of party.  We couldn't believe our luck!   So we walk in, and because we've just personally saved Saudi from the menace of Saddam Hussien,  we're welcomed in as guests, and got the meet-and-greet from all the head honcho Bedouins. They had everything there.  It was like a circus!   Piles of grub, lions on chains,  silk and wool blankets hanging everywhere, there were a pair of elephants, and a gorilla, too.   You've never partied until you've partied with the Bedouins.

So what was happening is one of the wealthier Bedouins had something like 9 daughters and it was finally time for the youngest to get married.  This dude was loaded, so she had lots of suitors.    The idea was that he would have all the young men compete for her hand, and the guy that could handle his business the best basically got to take her home, and became the son-in-law of the head honcho.    I thought that was kind of weird, but Thieb decides he's gonna marry her, and wants to enter the contest.  I guess he figured being a Bedouin-in-law was better than being a hog farmer back in Bunky, LA. At first they laughed at him but once he convinced them he was serious, and due to his status as a Genuine War Hero, they all kind of shrugged, and the honcho signed off on it.  I don't think any of them thought he had a shot, but at least it would be good for a laugh.

So anyway, the setup.  There were three tents.  The first tent was open to view.  It had nothing other than a table, a chair, and a big assed jug of this liquor that the Saudi's make themselves, because liquor is otherwise banned in the country.  I don't remember what it was called, so I'm just going to call it grog.  This stuff would take paint off walls and I think it substituted for jet fuel in a pinch.  The object of the contest:  Drink as much as you can as fast as you can.

The second tent held that gorilla I mentioned earlier.   This gorilla hadn't eaten for three days.  And it had a mouth full of bad teeth.  The object of the contest:  Pull a tooth.

In the third tent was the honcho Bedouin's most experienced, ahhh, concubine?  According to what I was told, she ate men, and spit them out in little pieces, preserving their spines for trophies.  Evidently, Honcho wanted to make sure daddies little girl was well provided for.  Ms. Concubine would prove to be the final judge of winners and losers, and ultimately select the champions for the Honcho Bedouin.   The object:  Satisfy her every need.

So the first three entrants never got passed the grog.  Theib, being a big dumb Cajun from Louisiana, had a distinct advantage over all those Arab boys who might see alcohol once or twice in their lives.   They would down a good sized tumbler full, and promptly puke it back up. Thieb had the servants running for more, as he drained the remainder of the bottle in about three gulps.  So anyway, he drinks until he's not thirsty any more, wipes off his chin, and releases the most awe inspiring belch you've ever heard, which duly impressed the shit out of everyone,  including me.

So he barrels into the second tent, and ties closed the door flap behind him.  Then it gets really quiet.  We're all wondering what is going on in there it's so quiet.  Then all of a sudden all you hear is this huge ROAAAAAAWWWWR!!!!    The earth starts to thump and dust is coming up from under the tent eaves and you'd swear to God the Devil himself is getting ready to come pouring out of that tent good an pissed off.   Then it all gets quiet again.

Out comes Thieb, and he's not looking so well.  He's bleedin' out his ears and his face is scratched and dirty, and I think he may have lost a tooth or three in the bargain.   But he's got his big dumb Cajun grin on, he hitches up his pants and says ..."OK!  So where's that gorilla?"

And in case we have forgotten,   baseball is vastly superior to cricket.

A is at 440.  To tone it down a full step, you would tune each string like thus.

E    ->   D
A   ->   G
D   ->   C
G   ->   F
B   ->   A
E   ->   D

Although I don't know I'd agree that it is a good idea.   You need to develop hand strength, so you might as well just keep it tuned to standard.   I do think lighter strings would be a good idea, though.

I recognize that.  I even noted that the Monarchy is largely symbolic.  The issue isn't whether the Monarch wields power (we all know She doesn't) it's what the very existence of a Monarch symbolizes with regards to the position of the government in relationship to that of the people.

The American Constitution asserts that all power stems from the people. It is, in essence,  an express grant of power to the government from the people.  The government has only those powers that are granted to it specifically, and none else.   All other rights are reserved to the states, or to the people.    The British Constitutional Monarchy works the opposite way.  The government has inherent powers that it may wield over the people, and that the people have no control over.

What that says to me is "more practice!"

It will come.  Just be patient and persistent, and some day you'll wonder what all the fuss was about.

In America, we recognize that governments are instituted amongst and by the governed, for the benefit of the governed.  In England, it is it is Her Majesty's Government.  That is, the government is headed still by the Monarch.   Today it is symbolic, as they are a real democracy, but that does not change the view of the Divine Right of Kings to rule.  They are subjects to the crown.     We are citizens of our nation, and our government is subject to us.

We wrote a letter to them about that in 1776, expressing our displeasure. 

Yes.  It should be teaching you the difference between being a "citizen" and a "subject."

Zing!