Wee Small Hours

[C]/  [drum fill]

        In the w[C]ee small hours of s[Fm]ixpence
        And the l[C]ighted chandel[Fm]ier
        Stands a r[Dm]usty [Em]   old ret[F]ainer [C]
        Whose old [Abdim]eyes a[N.C.]re filled with[C/G] tears

        For his master, good Sir Gallant
        Who is now off to the wars
        And although his eyes are crying
        We know grief is not the cause

        And if gr[F]ief is[F#dim] not the r[C]eason
        He must [F]be of [F#dim]sterner st[C]uff
        And his sw[F]ord, though old[Am/E] and r[Dm]usty
        Must be bl[G]unt as sh[F]arp eno[E]ugh   [D]

        In the wee small hours of sixpence
        And the broken windowpane
        Stand the remnants of the evening
        Who are waiting all in vain

        For the crowing of the cockroach
        Sure as morning is not night
        But the air is filled with silence
        And the day bright is not light

        But still darkness is no reason
        We are men of sterner stuff
        And our swords, though old and rusty
        Still are blunt as sharp enough

Instrumental break [key changes to D]:

        [D]/ / / /  [Bm] / / / / [D/A]  / / / / [Bm]  / / / /
        [G]/ / [B]/ [Em]/   / / / [A]/   /[G] / / [F#]/   /[E] / / /

        In the w[D]ee small hours of [Gm]sixpence
        And the h[D]at stand in the h[Gm]all
        Waiting o[Em]nly [F#m]    for the m[G]orning  [D]
        Shadows [Bbdim]flitti[N.C.]ng 'cross th[D/A]e wall

        And perhaps that old retainer
        Who now giving of his all
        May have once been just as we are
        And now has no face at all

        But still gr[G]ief was[Abdim] not the r[D]eason
        He was m[G]ade of [Abdim]sterner st[D]uff
        And his sw[G]ord, though old[B] a[Em]nd rusty
        Still was bl[A]unt as sh[G]arp eno[F#]ugh   [E]

        [D]       [Bm]        [D] [end cold]
        / / / /  / / / /  /

-- another ace 60's tab from Andrew Rogers