Misc Traditional – Its The Syme The Whole World Over (Guitar)

        G           C
She was just a parson's daughter,

               D7       G
Pure, unstyned was her fyme,

       C
Till a country squire came courtin',

        D7                  G
And the poor girl lorst 'er nyme.

         G              C
[tab]                   D7       G
It's the poor what gets the blyme,

          C
While the rich 'as all the plysures,

          D7              G
Now ain't that a blinkin' shyme.

       G            C
So she went aw'y to Lunnon,

               D7        G
Just to  'ide 'er guilty shyme.

          C
There she met another squire,

     D7                  G
Once ag'yn she lorst 'er nyme.

        G                C
Look at 'im with all 'is 'orses,

         D7                G
Drinking champygne  in 'is club,

          C
While the wictim of 'is passions

           D7           G
Drinks 'er Guiness in a pub.

        G             C
Now e's in 'is ridin' britches,

              D7     G
'Untin' foxes in the chyse,

          C
While the wictim of 'is folly

          D7            G
Mykes 'er livin' by 'er wice.

         G                C
When she tried to go from Lunnon,

              D7       G
Once ag'yn to 'ide 'er shyme,

        C
She was 'syved' by an army chaplain,

      D7                 G
Once ag'yn she lorst 'er nyme.

         G              C
'Ear 'im as 'e jaws the Tommies,

               D7        G
Warnin' o' the flymes o' 'ell.

         C
With 'er 'ole 'eart she 'ad trusted,

      D7                G
But ag'yn she lorst 'er nyme.

        G              C
So she settled down in Lunnon,

               D7     G
Sinkin' deeper in 'er shyme,

         C
Till she met a lybor leader,

      D7                G
And ag'yn she lorst 'er nyme.

         G               C
Now 'e's in the 'ouse of Commons

               D7       G
Mykin' laws to put down crime,

         C
Wile the wictim o' 'is plysure

          D7                   G
Walks the street each night in shyme.

           G              C
Then there cyme a bloated bishop.

         D7              G
Marriage was the tyle 'e told.

          C
There was no one else to tyke 'er,

       D7                G
So she sold 'er soul for gold.

        G                C
See 'er in 'er 'orse and carriage,

              D7          G
Drivin' d'yly through the park.

           C
Though she myde a wealthy marriage,

          D7               G
Still she 'ides a breakin' 'eart.

     G               C
In a cottage down in Sussex

             D7            G
Lives 'er payrents old and lyme,

         C
And they drink the wine she sends 'em,

         D7               G
But they never speaks 'er nyme.

         G               C
In their poor and 'umble dwelling,

           D7               G
There 'er grievin' payrents live.

         C
Drinkin' champygne as she sends  'em

         D7           G
But they never can forgive.