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No Provenance

Joanna Newsom
Version1
90

Chords in this song

Strum
D-DU-UDU
Allelu, allelu:
 I have died happy,
and  lived  to tell  the tale to you.
 I have slept for forty  years,
and  woke  to find me gone.
 I woke safe  and warm  in your  arms.
 In your arms
Your  arms
 In your  arms
Not  informed  of  the natural  law,
 squatting, lordly, on  a stool, in  a stall,
we  spun gold  clear out of straw.
 And, when our bales  of bullion
 were stored,
 you  burned me like a barn.
 I burned safe  and warm  in your  arms.
 In your arms
Your  arms
I'm  afraid of the Big Return.
There's  a  certain  conversation  lost,
 and that loss  incurred
 with nobody  remaining,
 to register who  had passed  this way,
 in the night,
in  the middle  of the night
 (negating  their grace  and their sight),
 till only  I remember, or mark,
 how we had  our talk:
 We took  our ride,
 so that there was no-one  home,
and  the lights of  Rome
flickered  and died.
 And, what's more,
 I believe  that you knew  it, too;
I  think you  saw their flares,
 and kept me safely  unawares,
 in your  arms.
 In your  arms
 In your arms.
 The  grass was  tall, and  strung with  burrs,
 I essayed that high sashay  which,
in  my mind, was my way;
you  hung behind, in yours.
 Anyhow, she did not  neigh.
 I do not know
what  drew our  eyes to hers;
 that little  black mare  did not  stir,
 till I  lay down in  your arms.
Poor  old dirty little dog-size horse!—
swaying and  wheezing,
 as a  matter of course;
swaying  and wheezing,
 as a matter  of pride.
 That  poor old  nag, not  four  palms wide,
 had  waited a  long time,
coated  in salt,
 buckled like  a ship  run foul  of the fence.
In  the  middle  of the night,
 she'd sprung up,
 no provenance,
bearing  the whites  of her eyes.
 And you,  with your
 'arrangement'  with Fate,
 nodded sadly  at her lame  assault
 on  that  steady old gate,
her  faultlessly etiolated  fishbelly-face;
the  muzzle  of a ghost.
 And, pretty Johnny Appleseed,
via  satellite feed,
tell  us, who was it
 that you  then loved the most?
 Pretty Johnny Appleseed,
leave  a trail that leads
straight  back down to the farm.
 Lay me down
safe  and  warm in your arms.
 In your  arms.

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Readable chord sheet for No Provenance by Joanna Newsom

[Am]Allel[E]u, [G]all[F]elu:
I have died [Am]happy,
[E]and li[G]ved to [F]tell the tale to you.
I have slept for [Am]forty years,
[E]and wo[G]ke to find me [F]gone.
I woke s[Am]afe and w[G]arm in your[F] arms.
In your [C]arms  [C7]
[F]Your ar[Dm]ms
In y[G]our a[C]rms [B/C]
[Am]Not in[E]formed o[G]f the [F]natural law,
squatting, lordly, [Am]on a stool, i[E]n a stall,
[G]we spun gold[F] clear out of straw.
And, when our b[Am]ales of bul[E]lion
were [G]stored,
you[F] burned me like a barn.
I burned s[Am]afe and w[G]arm in y[F]our arms.
In your a[C]rms   [C7]
[F]Your arms
[Dm]I'm afraid of the Big Retur[A]n.
[D]There's a[C#] ce[D]rtain conve[Bm]rsation l[G]ost,
and that [F#]loss incurr[B]ed
with [D]nobody remaining,
to r[E]egister [Am]who had [Bb]passed this [A]way,
in the [D]night,
[D]in the [C#]mid[D]dle of the [Bm]night
(ne[G]gating their [F#]grace and their s[B7]ight),
till [D]only I remember, or [E]mark,
how we [Am]had our [E]talk:
We [G]took[F] our ride,
so that there was [Am]no-one home,
[E]and the lights of[G] Rome
[F]flickered and died.
And, what's more,
I b[Am]elieve that you kn[E]ew it, too;
[G]I think you[F] saw their flares,
and kept me [Am]safel[G]y una[F]wares,
in [C]your a[C7]rms.
In [F]your a[Dm]rms
In [G]your [C]arms[B/C].
The[Am] grass wa[E]s tall, a[G]nd strung with[F] burrs,
I essayed that high s[Am]ashay which,
[E]in my mind, was my [G]way;
[F]you hung behind, in yours.
Anyhow, she did not[Am] neigh.    [E]
I do not know
[G]what drew our[F] eyes to hers;
that l[Am]ittle black [G]mare did [F]not stir,
till [C]I lay down in[F] your arms.

[Dm]Poor old dirty little d[A]og-size [D]horse!—
[C#]swa[D]ying [Bm]and w[G]heezing,
as a[F#] matter of [B]course;
[D]swaying and w[E]heezing,
as a [Am]matter of [Bb]pride.
That[A] poor old[D] nag, not[C#] fo[D]ur palms [Bm]wide,
had[G] waited a[F#] long t[B7]ime,
[D]coated in [E]salt,

buckled l[Am]ike a sh[Bb]ip run f[A]oul of the fence[D].
[D]In the[C#] mi[D]ddle of the [Bm]night,
she'd sprung u[G]p,
no [F#]provenance[B],
[D]bearing the [E]whites of her [Am]eyes.
And [Bb]you, with your
'ar[A]rangement' with Fa[D]te,
nodded [C#]sad[D]ly at her la[Bm]me assault
o[G]n th[F#]at steady old [B]gate,
[D]her faultlessly e[E]tiolated fish[Am]belly-[E]face;
[G]the muzz[F]le of a ghost.
And, pretty Johnny A[Am]ppleseed,
[E]via satellite feed,
[G]tell us, who was it
that [F]you then loved the most?
Pretty Johnny [Am]Appleseed,
[E]leave a trail that l[G]eads
[F]straight back down to the farm.
Lay me down
[Am]safe and[G] warm in your [F]arms.
In you[Am]r arms.[G]     [A]

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