Scorn Of The Women

Scorn of the Women â€“ Weddings, Parties, Anything

                                                                    

    G                        D                                       

I remember respectfully like others before me

    A                                                                

All those folk who fell in the war

    G                        D                                        

And I hear you singing songs of lamentation

      A                          D                                    

But I don’t wish to hear them no more

A                                               G                     A

What did you do in the time of the war? It’s a question asked by everyone

   G                       D                    A                     D 

I stood in a line my screwdriver in hand making aircraft out at Laverton

                                                                    

            G                        D

   So don’t sing no songs about Waltzing Matilda

         A         G            A         G                                

   Don’t tell me I tried, don’t tell me I failed

       G                   D                                             

   For all I recall is the scorn of the women

         A                                    D                          

   And a white feather that I received in the mail

                                                                    

    G                     D                                       

I remember the day I went down to enlist

         A                                                          

And they said â€œRead this chart on the wall”

     G                     D                                         

I remember the tone of the voice of the doctor

      A                                                       D       

As he said to me: â€œThat will be all. Thank you very much”

 A                                      G                      A       

Riding home slowly I sat on my tram not sure if to laugh or to cry

       G                           D                                  

For to train in the camps, sure, a man needs his lamps

      A                              D                                

And a good soldier he must have good eyes

                                                                    

Chorus

                                                                    

        G                          D                               

Well it takes more than bullets to murder and maim

        A                                                            

Whether worn down or beaten a death’s still a death

        G                           D                                 

And you know sometimes when I think back to the forties

  A                     D                                            

I pray for my very last breath

    A                                                                

You know I have nothing against those who fought

        G                           A                                 

But for Christ’s sake we do what we can

            G                          D                              

And there’s more than one way that you can skin a cat

            A                                   D                     

And there’s more than one way you can cripple a man

                                                                    

Chorus