The Man From Athabaska - Ver 2

Am C G Am Am C G Am Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas nothing but the thrumming Am C G Of a woodpecker a-rapping on the hollow of a tree; G Am C G Am Amd she thought that I was fooling when I said it was the drumming Am C G Of the mustering of legions and 'twas calling unto me; G Am C G 'Twas calling me to pull my freight and hop across the sea. G Am C G Am Amd a-mending of my fish-nets sure I started up in wonder, Am C G Am For I heard a savage roaring and 'twas coming from afar; Am C G Am Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas only summer thunder, Am C G Am Amd she laughed a bit sarcastic when I told her it was War: Am C G 'Twas the chariots of battle where the mighty armies are. Am C G Am Then down the lake came Half-breed Tom with russet sail a-flying Am C G Amd the word he said was "War" again, so what was I to do ? G Am C G Am Oh the dogs they took to howling and the missis took to crying, Am C G As I flung my silver foxes in the little birch canoe; G C G Am Yes, the old girl stood a-bubbling till an island hid the view. Am C G Am Says the factor, "Mike, you're crazy! They have soldier men a-plenty. Am C G You're as grizzled as a badger and you're sixty year or so." G Am C G Am "But I haven't missed a scrap," says I, "Since I was one and twenty. Am C G Amd shall I miss the biggest? You can bet your whiskers? no!" G Am C G So I sold my furs and started ... and that's eighteen months ago. Am C G Am For I joined the Foreign Legion and they put me for a starter Am C G In the trenches of the Argonne with the Boche a step away; G Am C G Am Amd the partner on my right hand was an apache from Montmartre; Am C G Amd on my left there was a millionaire from Pittsburgh, U.S.A Am C G (Poor fellow! They collected him in bits the other day.) C Am C G Am Well I'm sprier than a chipmunk, save a touch of the lumbago, Am C G Amd they calls me Old Methoosalah, and blagues me all the day. G C Am G C I'm their exhibition sniper and they work me like a Dago, C Am C G Amd laugh to see me plug a Boche a half a mile away. G Am C G Oh I hold the highest record in the regiment, they say. Am C G Am A5 Am Am C G Am Amd at night they gather round me, and I tell them of my roaming Am C G In the Country of the Crepuscule beside the Frozen Sea, G Am C Am Where the musk-ox run unchallenged and the cariboo goes homing; Am C G Amd they sit like little children, just as quiet as can be: F C G Men of every clime and color, how they harken unto me! Am C G Am Amd I tell them of the Furland, of the tumpline and the paddle, Am C G Of secret rivers loitering, that no one will explore; G Am C G Am Amd I tell them of the ranges, of the pack-strap and the saddle, Am C G Amd they fill their pipes in silence, and their eyes beseech for more; G F C Am While above the star-shells fizzle and the high explosives roar. Am C G Am Amd I tell of lakes fish-haunted where the big bull moose are calling, Am C G Amd forests still as sepulchers with never trail or track; Am C G Am Amd valleys packed with purple gloom, and mountain peaks appalling, Am C G Amd I tell them of my cabin on the shore at Fond du Lac; G F C G Amd I find myself a-thinking: Sure I wish that I was back. Am C G Am So I brag of bear and beaver while the batteries are roaring, Am C G Amd the fellows on the firing steps are blazing at the foe; G Am C G Am Amd I yarn a fur and feather when the marmites are a-soaring, Am C G Amd they listen to my stories, seven poilus in a row, G F C G Seven lean and lousy poilus with their cigarettes aglow. Verse 11 Am F C G Am Amd I tell them when it's over how I'll hike for Athabaska; Am C G Amd those seven greasy poilus they are crazy to go too. G F C Am Amd I'll give the wife the "pickle-tub" I promised, and I'll ask her Am C G The price of mink and marten, and the run of cariboo, G F C Am Amd I'll get my traps in order, and I'll start to work anew. Verse 12 Am C G Am For I've had my fill of fighting, and I've seen a nation scattered, Am F C G Amd an army swung to slaughter, and a river red with gore, G F C G Am Amd a city all a-smolder, and ... as if it really mattered, Am C G For the lake is yonder dreaming, and my cabin's on the shore; F Am C F C Amd the dogs are leaping madly, and the wife is singing gladly, Am C G Amd I'll rest in Athabaska, and I'll leave it nevermore, G Em Am Amd I'll leave it nevermore. Am Am A5 Am