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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