Chords
Rsvp

Key: F

Introduction:

               F                                                 Dm 
On the bleakest day autumn could muster
           Bb                                                       C 
In a church to which they'll not return
                     F                                                     Dm 
I thought back to a time when I could trust her
           F                             Bb                   C 
To a time when there wasn't John Byrne.
                   Gm                                                     Bb 
And in a cruel twist of fate which so often
     F                                         C 
Occurs in tales such as this
     F                                             Dm 
I found myself catering reception
                               Bb                             C 
And there were urges I had to resist.
         F                                                         Dm 
Not least 'cos John Byrne is much fitter
                 F                             Bb                     C         C7 
And the straightener to him holds no fears
                     F                               A7                           Dm         Bb 
So if the chocolate in the fountain tastes bitter
               F                             C                         F 
It's because it's been laced with my tears.
         F                                             Dm 
Celebrations were well underway when
         Bb                                               C 
Her father prayed silence and spoke
                             F                                         Dm 
He said "It's not like I'm losing a daughter as..."
 Bb                                         C 
(Violently starting to choke).
                   Gm                                                     Bb 
And in a gesture which said "I'm fast fading
             F                             C 
Could somebody dial 999?"
       F                                       Dm 
He valiantly toasted my capers
               F                         Bb                         C 
With a glass of what he thought was wine.
               F                           Dm                 Bb                       C 
It was gone half past ten before folk cottoned on
       F                           A                 Bb 
By which time I'd landed in Wick.
             F                                                 Dm 
So if what's in the fondue's to die for
                   F                   Bb                   C         C7 
It's got nothing to do with the cheese
               F                         A7                           Dm         F 
And if what's in the punchbowl seems lethal
               Bb                         C                     F 
It's because it's two-thirds anti-freeze.