Tablature lucky - Fish

          



 #----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#

  #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #

  #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #

  #------------------------------------------------------------------------------##

  Date: Fri, 8 Dec 1995 14:04:43 GMT+1

  From: CHRISTER VARANchrister Varan <C.Varan@ET.TUDelft.NL>

  Subject: CRD: Lucky by Fish

  

  Hi, Fish lover.

  Here's a song I like very much.....

  

                               - Lucky -

                   from the album "Acustic Session" by Fish

  

  

  D    C    G

  D    C    G

  

  D

  He met with the world as a Dalkeith boy,

  Raised from a shaft at Monktonhall

       C

  In a well oiled cage,

                       G

  That locked away his dreams.

     D

  An '85 veteran facefrom the gallery,

  A ghost from the civil war in the family,

     C

  He stood his ground on the picketline.

   G

  'Til all that he was left with,

           D

  Were his father's cough

  And his mother's eyes.

  That would hold a tear

  For the very first time,

           C                       G

  When the government took his job away.

      D

  Now fist in hand he'll stand in line.

  Declare his name and mark his time.

     C                                G

  To some the only proof that they're alive.

  

  

  CHORUS:

                     F

  He could have been you.        _|

  He could have been me.          |

                     D#           |    x 2

  He could have been anybody      |

  (Bb)            F               |

  But he was born lucky.         _|

  

  

  F    D#    Bb

  

  F

  He mad his first downpayment,

  On a sharp Italian suit.

           D#                    Bb

  He sewed razor blades into the lapels,

  F

  See him sweating on the dancefloor.

  Coal dust oozing out of every pore.

    D#

  A hard man with a hard life,

               Bb

  And that's a story that he'll tell you,

          F

  Down at Easter Road till his throat is raw.

  On a Saturday, he knows the score,

  D#

  Till the whistle blows and,

                         Bb

  The tempers with their colours fade away.

  

  {CHORUS}

  

  D    C    G

         D

  On the helipads at Aberdeen

  Bound for platforms drilling oil rich seas,

            C

  Where the trawlers are getting fewer

        G

  Every year.

         D

  By the furnaces at Ravenscraig,

  By the padlocks holding John Brown's gates,

         C                              G

  In the desert, in the fields of South Armagh,

            D

  Where the poppies grow,

  Behind the Hampden roar,

  Behind the drums in Genoa.

         C                                G

  On the deck that rides a south Atlantic swell,

  D

  Born to fight out of the tightest corner.

  You can bet on him with the odds against you,

  C

  They'll not put him down

                          G

  No matter how hard they try.

  

  {CHORUS}

  

  

  Repeat

  

  F    D#    Bb

  

  till end.

  

  Christer Varan

  

  C.Varan@ET.TUDelft.NL

  

   


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 Lucky, de Fish 

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