Alnwick & Tyne

Here's a bodice-ripping yarn of turncoats and treachery. In the wars of the roses, you risked a prick whichever one you picked.

Who says that the King and I at discords be
Discerning parties close inspection no such mood can see
Indeed Lord soul unhappy now it seems
The Ocean's grey and the King ordained and I was caught between

It was raining on the Elm fields I recall
When me and my companions came in riding from the north
Like fools we came to fly before we fall
And the rights and the wrongs and the rumours run
where the rivers ran before

And I have four and twenty tailors now
They work the whole day through
To make me a coat of rebel yellow
Make me a cloak of royal blue
Go grow me a rose of every colour
Post fresh mounts along the way
Make me a coat for every weather
And I'll change it every day

But the years roll past and another voice is heard
The horse you backed a loser comes in five-and-thirty-third
Your oath they'll take but first they'll take your shirt
And I've had to pawn my vestments now and I've had to eat my words

Its raining on the Elm fields once again
I've one fist clenched in anger now the other clenched in shame
While through the woods receding rides the change
And all the big years will turn me round and trip me up again

He says that he'll come up and see to me sometime
All across the borders boundaries scattered and defied
And on my picture left in Scotland swore me sanctuary denied
To hunt me all across the border
And from Alnwick to the Tyne

How we laughed once how we sang and how we raised the rafters
God will grant us good sometimes and God will grant disaster
God will bid us time to pass and says manners maketh man
And God will grant me one more time and I shall prove the master

So who says that the King and I at discords be?

Intro. A C#m D E
Verse A D A E A D E A
Chorus D E A A E
Middle 8 A D E A