Frank Turner – The Graveyard Of The Outcast Dead (Guitar)

        A       E      F#m
They buried my body on Christmas

        A       D        E
In the ground by the south river bank

    A         E          F#m
Worked to my death, for my very last breath

           D         E          A
I'd the Winchester bishops to thank

           A             E             F#m
Now the church held the keys to the brothel

         D               A          E
Lit the window with a burning red light

        A             E             F#m
While I teased the funds from the pockets of johns

     D         E             A
The bishop got rich in the night

        E
But I didn't fall apart

        E
Through my years in the dark

        E
For my lover I guarded

        E
My pure, pure heart

         A                D
And he meets me in the graveyard

       A                         E
The graveyard where they made my bed

        A                     D
Plants a white flower under cold stars

         F#m           E       A     F#m     E      A
On the grave of the forgotten dead

          A            E               F#m
Now the bishops snuck off to fresh pastures

          D                A          E
While my grave was grown over with weeds

       A     E               F#m
No burial plots, just some forget-me-nots

          D         E         A
For the women they branded unclean

        A           E              F#m
The wasteland was claimed by the city

        D               A        E
They covered it with tenement slums

      A               E                 F#m
For where we'd been left had never been blessed

           D           E            A
And they dug down and built on our bones

      E
But every December

     E
With frost on his fingers

     E
My lover returns

     E
For he still remembers

     A                D
To meet me in the graveyard

       A                         E
The graveyard where they made my bed

          A                   D
Plants a white flower under cold stars

          F#m        E         A
On the grave of the forgotten dead

     A                     Dm
The sun goes down and the last folk leave

       A                      Dm
It's London Town on Christmas Eve

      A                    Dm
My lover still wanders bereft and bereaved

          A                          Dm
For he can't find the woman that he promised he'd meet

      A                    Dm
The sun comes up on the cold, cold ground

          A                   Dm
It's Christmas morning in London Town

     A                         Dm
He lays on my grave and he cradles his head

            A                         Dm
And as he hears the church bells, he knows that I'm dead

      A            E            F#m
So London, don't mourn for your lovers

         D              A      E
Raise a glass for us glorious dead

        A                E              F#m
For beneath Southwark streets, we outlasted the priests

          D            E         F#m/A
And the city's raised up on our beds

              D               E      A
Though we're gone, London, do not forget

      A            D
To meet us on Christmas

          A                          E
In the graveyard where they made our bed

         A                     D
Plant a white flower for the outcasts

         F#m             E        D
On the graves of the forgotten dead

       A              D
Oh to meet us on Christmas

         A                            E
In the graveyard where they made our bed

         A                 D
Plant a white flower for the outcasts

          F#m         E          D
On the graves of the forgotten dead

          F#m             E       A
In the Graveyard of the Outcast Dead