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Our Lady of the Campfire  Frank Turner

Capo on 1st
Tonight is her ni[A]ght, and the ci[Dm]ty holds its b[A]reath,
[Dm]Caught twixt life and d[A]eath, as she ro[Dm]lls in from the subu[A]rbs,
The gar[F]rison flees and the city will burn.
[F#]Corinna rides like Boa[E]dicea to[Dsus2]night.
[F#]London town tre[E]mbles at the si[Dsus2]ght.
Because tonight is her ni[A]ght.
And the yo[Dm]uth course through the st[A]reets to l[Dm]ay down at her [A]feet,
And she r[Dm]uns a regal e[A]ye to ch[F]oose who lives and decide who dies.
[F]She keeps her co[G]unsel, smiles when she sp[Am]eaks now, from ear to[C] ear.
[F]She's getting m[G]arried, or so they t[Am]ell me, when the spring is [E]here.
[C]She hums a tu[E]ne from a song she knows fr[F#]om warm summers p[Am]ast,
[C]A song that was sung b[E]y kids around cam[F#]pfires in the quiet s[Am]outhwest.

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A Am C Dm Dsus2 E F F# G
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