{t:Campfire In The Dark}
{st:Paddy Houlihan}


My [D]father rises early and he [G]makes a cup of [Em]tea
He [A]lights the kitchen [A7]stove and [G]then he calls [D]me
His [D]days are often empty, he’s [G]nothing much to [Em]do
So he [A]sits and tells me [A7]stories of the [G]travelling life he [D]knew
In the [Bm]evening they would meet in lonely country [G]lanes
A [Bm]field away you'ld hear a collie [G]bark
And they’d [Bm]pass the time away with talks about the [G]day
[A]Standing 'round the [G]campfire in the [Bm]dark
[A]Standing 'round the [G]campfire in the [Bm]dark


My [D]mother likes the house, the hot [G]water and the [Em]rooms
It's [A]warm in the [A7]winter and she's [G]handy with the [D]broom
Some[D]times she makes Colcannon, more [G]often Griddle [Em]Bread
There's [A]hunger deep in[A7]side her for a [G]traveling life that’s [D]dead
In the [Bm]evening she would lift the black pots from the [G]coals
A [Bm]bit to eat she always would re[G]mark
There'd be [Bm]vessels left to clean while children could be [G]seen
[A]Playing 'round the [G]campfire in the [Bm]dark
[A]Playing 'round the [G]campfire in the [Bm]dark



We'd go d[D]own to the pool hall to c[G]hat up the town b[Em]eors
Some[A]times at their [A7]discos we [G]can't get past the [D]doors
We're [D]still tinkers to them and it's [G]thrown at our [Em]ears
We're [A]still the awful [A7]strangers [G]after all these [D]years
And I [D]think about my own life and the [G]way that it will [Em]be
An [A]Escort van, a [A7]bit of dealing, a [G]wife and fami[D]ly
[D]Thursday I collect the Dole, [G]friday pitch and [Em]toss
But [A]on the site I [A7]think about the [G]travellers' ways we've [D]lost
And I [Bm]wish that I could rise, wash the sleep out of these [G]eyes
And [Bm]listen to the sweet song of the [G]lark
And I [Bm]wish that I could be in campfire compa[G]ny
With the [A]sound of horses [G]moving in the [Bm]dark
With the [A]sound of horses [G]moving in the [Bm]dark
With the [A]sound of horses [G]moving in the [Bm]dark