Running to Paradise (Хелависа)

		

Em Hm

As I came over Windy Gap

D Am

They threw a halfpenny into my cap,

G C D

For I am running to Paradise;

G D

And all that I need do is to wish

Am C

And somebody puts his hand into dish

Em Hm

To throw me a bit of salted fish:

D Em

And there the king is but as the beggar.

My brother Mourteen is worn out

In skelping his big brawling lout,

And I am running to Paradise;

A poor life, do what he can,

And though he keep a dog and a gun,

A serving-maid and a serving-man:

And there the king is but as the beggar.

Poor men have grown to be rich men,

And rich men grown to be poor again,

And I am running to Paradise;

And many a darling wit's grown dull

That tossed a bare heel when at school

Now it has filled an old sock full:

And there the king is but as the beggar.

The wind is old and still at play

While I must hurry upon my way,

For I am running to Paradise;

Yet never have I lit on a friend

To take my fancy like the wind

That nobody can buy or bind:

And there the king is but as the beggar.

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