Beren's Song (J.R.R.Tolkien) Em Am D G C H7 Em Em H7 Em C Farewell sweet earth and northern sky, Am H7 Forever blest, since here did lie Em H7 Em C And here with lissom limbs did run Am C D Beneath the Moon, beneath the Sun
C G D G Luthien Tinuviel C G D Em More fair than mortal tongue can tell.
O loveliest maid of elfiness, What might of love did thee posess To bring you here, in terror's lair? O lissom limbs and shadowy hair!
O flawer-entwined brows so white, O slender hands in this new light!
Though all to ruin fell the world And were dissolved and backward hurled Unmade into the old abyss, Yet were its making good, for this -
The dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea - That Luthien for a time should be.
C G D G Luthien Tinuviel C A D Em Am D G D H7 Em More fair than mortal tongue can tell. The Song of Beren and Luthien (J.R.R.Tolkien) Em G A Em D C D Em Em G The leaves was long, the grass was green, A Em D The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, C D G And in the glade a light was seen C D Of stars in shadow shimmering. H7 Em Tinuviel was dancing there D C To music of a pipe unseen, Em Hm And light of stars was in her hair, D Em And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled He walked alone and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following.
C D G Enchantment healed his weary feet C D That over hills were doomed to roam; G D And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, C D Em And grasped at moonbeams glistening. C D G Through woven woods in Elvenhome C D She lightly fled on dancing feet, G C And left him lonely still to roam D Em In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hill-top high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinuviel! Tinuviel! He called her by her elvish name; And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinuviel That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw the mirrored shimmering. Tinuviel the elven-fair Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and gray, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless. Nimrodel (J.R.R.Tolkien) Am Em An Elven-maid there was of old, F C G7 A shining star by day: Am Em Her mantle white was hemmed with gold, F Em Am Her shoes of silver-grey.
Am G A star was bound upon her brows, F C A light was on her hair Dm Am As sun upon the golden boughs F Em Am In Lorien the fair.
C G Her hair was long, her limbs where white, C D E7 And fair she was and free; Am Em Am F And in the wind she went as light Dm Em Am As leaf of linden-tree.
Beside the falls of Nimrodel, By water clear and cool, Her voice as falling silver fell Into the shining pool.
Where now she wanders none can tell, In sunlight or in shade; For lost of yore was Nimrodel And in the mountains strayed.
The elven-ship in haven grey Beneath the mountain-lee Awaited her for many a day Beside the roaring sea.
A wind by night in Northern lands Arose, and loud it cried, And drove the ship from elven-strands Across the streaming tide.
When dawn came dim the land was lost, The mountains sinking grey Beyond the heaving waves that tossed Their plumes of blinding spray.
Amroth beheld the fading shore Now low beyond the swell, And cursed the faithless ship that bore Him far from Nimrodel.
Of old he was an Elven-king, A lord of tree and glen, When golden were the boughs in spring In fair Lothlorien.
From helm to sea they saw him leap, As arrow from the string, And dive into the water deep, As mew upon the wing.
The wind was in his flowing hair, The foam about him shone; Afar they saw him strong and fair Go riding like a swan.
But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore No tidings Elven-folk heard Of Amroth evermore. Galadriel's Song (J.R.R.Tolkien) Em C D Em C Am H7 I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew: Em C D Em C D Em Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew. G D G C Em C D7 Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea, G D G C Em C Hm Em And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone, In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion. There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years, While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
C Em G C O Lorien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day; A Em Am D The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away. C Em G C O Lorien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore A Em Am C D D7 And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
Em C D Em C Am H7 But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me, Em C D7 G C Hm Em What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea? G D G C Em C D7 G D G C Em C Hm Em Legolas's Song (J.R.R.Tolkien) Am Em Am D Am C G D To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying, F Am Em Am The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
Am C G West, west away, west away, the round sun is falling, sun is falling. D F Am Em Am Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling.
A D Dm The voices of my people that have gone before me? A D E7 I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending, days are ending and our years failing, years failing. I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves, are the waves on the Last Shore falling, Shore falling, Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover, Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!
To the Sea, to the Sea! To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying, The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying. The Lullaby (J.R.R.Tolkien) C Em C G C Em C D7 G D C G D Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together? G D C G The wind's in the free-top, the wind's in the heather; Am Em Am D The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, C D G And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.
Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together! Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather! The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting; Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.
G D C G D Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him! G D C G Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him! Am Em Am D The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow! C D D7 C Em D Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!
G D C G D Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn! G D C G Fall Moon! Dark be the land! Am Em C D Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn! Am C D C Em D Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand! Rolling Down the Hole (J.R.R.Tolkien) D G C D D G Roll-roll-roll-roll, C A7 Roll-roll-rolling down the hole D G Heave ho! Splash plump! C A D Down they go, down they bump!
D C Down the swift dark stream you go D C Back to lands you once did know! Em A Leave the halls and caverns deep, Em A Leave the northern mountains steep,
Where the forest wide and dim Stoops in shadow grey and grim! Float beyond the world of trees Out into the whispering breeze,
Past the rushes, past the reeds, Past the marsh's waving weeds, Through the mist that riseth white Up from mere and pool at night!
Follow, follow stars that leap Up the heavens cold and steep; Turn when dawn comes over land, Over rapid, over sand,
South away! and South away! Seek the sunlight and the day, Back to pasture, back to mead, Where the kine and oxen feed!
Em F#7 Back to gardens on the hills Em F#7 Where the berry swells and fills H7 Em Under sunlight, under day! G A7 South away! and South away! D C Down the swift dark stream you go D C Back to lands you once did know! The Hosting of the Sidhe (W.B.Yeats) Em D A C Hm Em Em G Am The host is riding from Knocknarea C D Em And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare; G Am Caoilte tossing his burning hair, C D Em And Niamh calling Away, come away.
F Em Am Empty your heart of its mortal dream. F Em Am The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round, F G Am Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound, F G A Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam, D Am Our arms are waving, out lips are apart;
D Am And if any gaze on our rushing band, D Am We come between him and the deed of his hand, C D Em We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day, And where is there hope or deed as fair? Caoilte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away.
And if any gaze on our rushing band, We come between him and the deed of his hand, We come between him and the hope of his heart. He mours for the Change... Am Am/g Am/f E7 Am Am/g Am/f E7 Am C Dm E7 Am Am/g F C E7 Do you not hear me calling, white dear with no horns? Am Am/g F C E7 I have been changed to a hound with one red ear; Am G F C G I have been in the Path of Stones and in the Wood of Thorns, D Dm F E For somebody hid hatred and hope and desire and fear
Under my feet so they follow you night and day. A man with a hazel wand came without sound; He changed me suddenly; I was looking another way; And now my calling is but the calling of a hound;
Am Am/g Am/f E7 Am Am/g Am/f E7 Am C Dm E7 C D E Am C D E Am F C Gm Dm Dm/c E7
And Time and Birth and Change are hurrying by. I would for the Boar without bristles had come from the West And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky And lay in the darkness, grunting, and turning to his rest.
Am Am/g Am/f E7 The Song of Wandering Aengus (W.B.Yeats) Am Am/g Am Am/g F Em Am F I went out to the hazel wood, G Am Because a fire was in my head, F And cut and peeled a hazel wand, G Am And hooked a berry to a thread;
G C And when white moths were on the wing, F Dm And moths-like stars were flickering our, Am E G F I dropped the berry in a stream Em Am And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire aflame, But something rustled on the floor, And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her head Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands;
G C And walk among long dappled grass, F Dm D And pluck till time and times are done Am E G D F The silver apples of the moon, Em Am The golden apples of the sun. The Unappeasable Host (W.B.Yeats) Hm Hm/a G D A The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, Hm Hm/a G D A And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, Hm Hm/a C Em A For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, Hm Hm/a G F# G F# With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold
I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast, And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me, Desolate wind that cry over the wandering sea; Desolate wind that hover in the flaming West;
Desolate wind that beats the doors of Heaven, and beat The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost; O heart that winds have shaken, the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet. The Host of the Air (W.B.Yeats) Dm Am Dm O'Driscoll drove with a song Am Dm The wild duck and the drake C Dm From the tall and the tufted reeds G Am Dm Of the drear Hart Lake.
Dm C Dm And he saw how the reeds grew dark C Dm At the coming of night-tide, C Dm And dreamed of the long dim hair G Am Dm Of Bridget his bride.
Gm C He heard while he sang and dreamed Gm C A piper piping away, F G And never was piping so sad, Am Dm C Dm C And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls Who danced on a level place, And Bridget his bride among them, With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him And many a sweet thing said, And a young man brought him red wine And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve Away from the merry bands, To old men playing at cards With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom, For these were the host of the air; He sat and played in a dream Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men And thought not of evil chance, Until one bore Bridget his bride Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his arms, The handsomest young man there, And his neck and his breast and his arms Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards And out of his dream awoke: Old men and young men and young girls Were gone like a drifting smoke;
Gm C But he heard high up in the air Gm C A piper piping away, F C G And never was piping so sad, Am Dm And never was piping so gay. The Black Tower (W.B.Yeats) Em F Say that the men of the old black tower, Em F Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds, C G Their money spent, their wine gone sour, F Em F Em F Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
Em A That all are oath-bound men: Em A Those banners come not in. C Em There in the tomb stand the dead upright, C D Em But winds come up from the shore: C D G They shake when the winds roar, A Em F Em F Old bones upon the mountain shake.
Those banners come to bribe or threaten, Or whisper that a man's a fool Who, when his own right king's forgotten, Cares what king sets up his rule.
If he died long ago Why do you dread us so? There in the tomb drops the faint moonlight, But wind comes up from the shore: They shake when the winds roar, Old bones upon the mountain shake.
The tower's old cook that must climb and clamber Catching small birds in the dew of the morn When we hale men lie stretched in slumber Swears that he hears the king's great horn.
But he's a lying hound: Stand we on guard oath-bound! There in the tomb the dark grows blacker, But wind comes up from the shore: They shake when the winds roar, Old bones upon the mountain shake. September 1913 (W.B.Yeats) Em C What need you, being come to sence, G D But fumble in a greasy till Em C And add the halfpence to the pence G D And prayer to shivering prayer, until Em F# Hm D You have dried the marrow from the bone? A For men were born to pray and save: C D Am Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, C D Em It's with O'Leary in the grave. C D G Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, C D Em It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet they were of a different kind, The names that stilled your childish play, The have gone about the world like wind, But little time had they to pray For whom the hangman's rope was spun, And what, God help us, could thay save? Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave. Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Was it for this the wild geese spread The grey wind upon every tide; For this that all that blood was shed, For this Edward Fitzgerald died, And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone, All that delirium of the brave? Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave. Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet could we turn the years again, And call these exiles as they were In all their loneliness and pain, You'd cry, "Some woman's yellow hair Has maddened every mother's son" They weighed so lightly what they gave. But let them be, they're dead and gone, They're with O'Leary in the grave. But let them be, they're dead and gone, They're with O'Leary in the grave. I am of Ireland (W.B.Yeats) D C "I am of Ireland, G D And the Holy Land of Ireland, Em C And time runs on," cried she. Em C "Come out of charity, Am C D C G D Come dance with me in Ireland."
D C One man, one man alone G D In that outlandish gear, D C One solitary man G D Of all that rambled there Am D Has turned his stately head. Am D That is a long way off, Em "And time runs on," he said, C A "And the night grows rough."
"I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on," cried she. "Come out of charity, And dance with me in Ireland."
"The fiddlers are all thumbs, Or the fiddle-string accursed, The drums and the kettledrums And the trumpets all are burst, And the trombone," cried he, "The trumpet and trombone," And cocked a malicious eye, "But time runs on, runs on."
"I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on," cried she. "Come out of charity, And dance with me in Ireland." Under the Moon (W.B.Yeats) A E F#m C#m I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde, F#m E Am G Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow, nor Joyous Isle, C G E Am Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while; G F E Nor Ulad, when Naoise had thrown his sail upon the wind;
Nor lands that seem to dim to be burdens on the heart: Land-under-Wave, where out of the moon's light and the sun's Seven old sisters wind the threads of the long-lived ones, Land-of-the-Tower, where Aengus has thrown the gates apart,
And Wood-of-Wonders, where one kills an ox at dawn, To find it when night falls laid on a golden bier. Therein are many queens like Branwen and Guinevere; And Niamh and Laban and Fand, who could change to an otter or fawn,
A E F#m C#m And the wood-woman, whose lover was changed to a blue-eyed hawk; F#m E Am G And whether I go in my dreams by woodland, or dun, or shore, C G E Am Or on the unpeopled waves with kings to pull at the oar, F E Am E I hear the harp-string praise them, or hear their mournful talk.
Am F Am G Because of something told under the famished horn Cm G# Cm B Of the hunter's moon, that hung between the night and the day, D# B G Cm To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dismay, B G# G C Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne. The Withering of the Boughs (W.B.Yeats) Dm C Dm I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds: C Dm "Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will, Gm F C I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words, Gm B For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind." Dm A B C The honey-pale moon lay down on the sleepy hill, Gm C F Dm And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams. Gm C F Dm No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind; Gm C The boughs have withered because, G B The boughs have withered because, Am Dm Am C Dm B Am C I have told them my dreams.
I know of the leafy paths that the witches take Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool, And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake; I know where a dim moon drifts, where the Danaan kind Wind and unwind dancing when the light grows cool On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams. No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind; The boughs have withered because, The boughs have withered because, I have told them my dreams.
I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round Coupled with golden chains, and sing as they fly. A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by; I know, and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams. No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind; The boughs have withered because, The boughs have withered because, I have told them my dreams. Running to Paradise (W.B.Yeats) Em Hm As I came over Windy Gap D Am They threw a halfpenny into my cap, G C D For I am running to Paradise; G D And all that I need do is to wish Am C And somebody puts his hand into dish Em Hm To throw me a bit of salted fish: D Em And there the king is but as the beggar.
My brother Mourteen is worn out In skelping his big brawling lout, And I am running to Paradise; A poor life, do what he can, And though he keep a dog and a gun, A serving-maid and a serving-man: And there the king is but as the beggar.
Poor men have grown to be rich men, And rich men grown to be poor again, And I am running to Paradise; And many a darling wit's grown dull That tossed a bare heel when at school Now it has filled an old sock full: And there the king is but as the beggar.
The wind is old and still at play While I must hurry upon my way, For I am running to Paradise; Yet never have I lit on a friend To take my fancy like the wind That nobody can buy or bind: And there the king is but as the beggar.
