C             G           C             F
Did the wine make her dream Of the far distant spring 

      C          G             C          G
Or a bed full of hens Or the ghost of a friend 

          C             G              C          F
All the while that she wept She had a gun by her bed 

         C        G           C              G
And a letter he wrote From a dry, foundered boat 

          F                G             C           F
And the train track will take All the wounded ones home 

      F       G              C          G
And Ill be alone Fare thee well Sara Jones 

        C           G               C    G
Now we lie on the floor While the radio war 

           C               G           C            G
Finds its way through the air Of the dead market square 


          C           G              C           G
And the beast never seen Licks its red talons clean 

        C        G
Sara curses the cold 

           C             G            C