Crock Of Gold

The intro and the slow bit at the beginning is just an arpeggiated A chord followed by a
 I'm not going to tab out all the nuance differences, but it's something like this:
e|-----0---------|
B|---------------|
G|---2---2-------|
D|-2-------2-----|
A|-----------0---|
E|---------------|

[A]We'll live out our lives on this dirty old street,

only because we just can't compete.
But in the concrete of our younger d[D]ays, we left our n[A]ames.

[A]Just like the people before,

when they reached the distant shore
with their drink and their dance, and their d[D]reams and sincere [A]aims.

[D]Ghosts long [A]gone, through old [D]buildings they [A]stare.
With their [D]offspring staring [A]at me for [D]they are still [A]there.
[D]Dreams that are [A]dead and [D]lives not [A]real[E]ized.
[A]Why did we write our names in these streets, to show we're alive?

(This is where the main part of the song kicks in.  You can make it sound a bit better
on your own by mimicking the bass a bit, strumming A three times and then hitting 0 3 on
E string until the vocals come about.)

[A]Well, Chicago is my home and I'll [F#m]never want to roam,
to [D]live on any sun swept distant [E]shore.
Well, it is [A]where I was reared by fo[F#m]rbearers so revered,
and I [D]sing the songs that [E]they all sang [A]before.

Well, any woman that's neared me
has been repelled most thoroughly.
Still I'm a lover God, I am foremost of all.
A musician that's my call of high degree professional.
But I'm afraid I do not know my trade at all.

And if it's [D]every twenty years
some small [A]relief to me appears,
then the [D]crock of gold will wait until that [E]day.
To [A]defend myself no more,
lay the shield of [F#m]anger at my door
        [D]            [E]             [A]  (e-0 [B]-202 [G]-2)
and the sword of alcohol will stow away.

All the people in our town are overworked and broken down.
Begging cheques but it's just not enough they're giving.
Crying quietly, living life so desperately.
That something has to make this life worth living.

Real life is only a timeline,
and the excitement holds the short times.
It will never measure up to what TV sells as great.
All the drunken jokes and views, exciting pubs they tell the news.
But the excited pats, well, they just weren't all that great.

(The solo that follows is played over the same progression as the verse followed by the chorus.)

I met a girl one night and enchantment fixed our sight,
so we decided we would hold it for awhile.
But she would not love me, so inside me finally I said,
"It's not your fault." But I would like love if only for a while.

Well, it's on and on I've seen, yeah that's how it's always been,
and how it will be as ever on I go.
Oh, but ever on I will. Through all the banal times until
I find some place to me that seems like home.