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McArthur

When a good friend hits the bottle, and you're fed up with picking up the pieces, smashing the phone is the next best thing to a game of cricket.

As the sun goes down McArthur drives the plough
And the steel shod hooves of the heavy horses
Beat a furrow in his brow
Shredding rosaries he turns the aching clay
McArthur's farce will live to fight
On another day

It's getting dark getting colder
And it's starting to rain
And on the rock upon the boulder
Where the ploughman carved his name
It said as the weak and foolish stumble blind along the path
All the saints and all the soldiers look down and laugh

And if it takes three days to march a mile when you march astray
Still hand in hand we'd march from Inkermann
We never lost our way
If it takes three days to march a mile when you march alone
Tell the tape recorded message on your telephone

There must be something we can talk about

So we all went down to the pits again
For one last round
Another bottle to your lips again
Is another sorrow drowned
But if they're watered well and tended they will multiply and grow
And then leave you
Caught out in the slips again

But when the play's too rough and when the sunsets lose appeal
Then goes the sailor back to sea again the hunter to his hill
Shaking hands they made their vows and went their ways
McArthur's farce will live too fight another day

As the sun goes down McArthur drives the plough
He said my brother was a farmer once but he's in the army now
And he writes and he tells his story every day
McArthur's farce will live to fight another day

Chords:

Intro. E Em
Verse E C#m F# A B
Break E C#m A B A F# E
Verse2 E C#m A B
Chorus E A B