Morningside

B7 E B7 E B7 E Morningside, the old man died, B7 E and no one cried, they simply turned away. A E And when he died, he left a table made of nails and pride, B7 E and with his hands he carved these words inside; "For my children." B7 E Morning light, morning bright, B7 E I spent the night with dreams that make you weep. A E Morning time, wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine, B7 E for I recall the words the old man signed; "For my children." (spoken) A And the legs were shaped with his hands, E and the top made of oaken wood, B7 and the children that sat around this great table E touched with their laughter, ah, and that was good. B7 E Morningside, an old man died, B7 E and no one cried, he surely died alone. A E And truth is sad, for not a child would claim the gift he had, B7 E the words he carved became his epitaph; "For my children." B7 E B7 E