Morningside

[intro]
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[verse]
B7 E
Morningside, the old man died,
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and no one cried, they simply turned away.
A E
And when he died, he left a table made of nails and pride,
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and with his hands he carved these words inside; "For my children."

[verse]
B7 E
Morning light, morning bright,
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I spent the night with dreams that make you weep.
A E
Morning time, wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine,
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for I recall the words the old man signed; "For my children."

[chorus]
spoken
A
And the legs were shaped with his hands,
E
and the top made of oaken wood,
B7
and the children that sat around this great table
E
touched with their laughter, ah, and that was good.

[verse]
B7 E
Morningside, an old man died,
B7 E
and no one cried, he surely died alone.
A E
And truth is sad, for not a child would claim the gift he had,
B7 E
the words he carved became his epitaph; "For my children."

[outro]
B7 E B7 E