Tabbed by Blackmirth D A in the silver morning hollow G D trembling and getting old D A smelling burnt oil of heaven G D about ten years, too big to hold A G D she don't get up when I come into the room A G D she don't run through the fields anymore D A built a fire in the kitchen G D made her bed by a stove D A took a walk to the graveyard G D but she didn't want to go A G D she don't worry all them murders of crows A G D even though they was always out of reach A G D she don't get up when I come into the room A G D she don't run through the fields anymore