Am
Oh, the drums are so mournful
G Am
My dear, oh, my love
Dm Am
As my thoughts they are turning your way
Dm Am
Where are the eyes
G E
I beheld with my own
Am Dm Am
On that long ago lazy day?
Dead are the leaves
On the stark battlefield
The stench of the flesh sickens me
I sleep soaking wet a
And the worms eat my bread
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The mourning of men fills the air
Oh, green are the leaves
On the old apple tree
Those sweet perfumed blossoms of spring
Entwined in your hair
A smile in your eyes
A soft blade of grass for a ring
Oh, the drums are so mournful
My dear, oh, my love
As my thoughts they are turning your way
Where are the eyes
I beheld with my own
On that long ago lazy day?
On that long ago lazy day
