http://www.showofhands.co.uk/ 4th fret claim his own The countryside is restless, the harvest almost home Someone stirs the woodland, and walks the paths alone Marching men approaching, and hunting horns are blown Days we will remember, the time we won?t forget Hours of celebration, long after sun has set Voices join together, we?ll raise the country yet Storm clouds in the distance, skies speak of rain The wind comes from the west, and Autumn?s here again As the darkness gathers, let? (guitaretab.com)