Tom: A
Introdução:
A
1. Lord, I've never lived where churches grow,
E
I loved creation better as it stood,
that day you finished it so long ago,
A
and looked upon your work and called it good.
A
2. I know that others find you in the light,
E
that sifted down through tinted window panes,
and yet I seem to feel you near tonight
A
in this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
A
3. I thank you, Lord, that I'm placed so well,
E
that you've made my freedom so complete,
that I'm no slave to whistle, clock or bell,
A
nor weak-eyed prisoner of Waller Street.
A
4. Just let me live my life as I've begun,
E
and give me work that's open to the sky,
make me a partner of the wind and sun,
A
and I won't ask a life that's soft or high.
A
5. Let me be easy on the man that's down,
E
let me be square and generous with all,
I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town,
A
but never let 'em say I'm mean or small.
A
6. Make me as big and open as the plains,
E
and honest as the horse between my knees,
clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
A
free as the hawk that circles down the breeze.
A
7. Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget,
E
you know about the reasons that are hid,
you understand the things that gall or fret,
A
well, you knew me better than my mother did.
A
8. Just keep an eye on all that's done or said,
E
and right me sometimes when I turn aside,
and guide me on that long, dim trail ahead
A
that stretches upward toward the great divide
A
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,
E
these words came low and mournfully
A
from the pallid lips of a youth who lay
E A
on his dying bed at the close of day.
A
Oh, bury me not, and his voice failed there,
E
but we took no heed to his dying prayer,
A
in a shallow grave just six by three,
E A
we buried him there on the lone prairie.