Janice and I are both history buffs and we ran across this Lincoln quote a while back which inspired the title of this tune.
"The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." – Abraham Lincoln, March 4, 1861, from his first inaugural address.
Mystic Chords
© 2015-2022 floyd jane and Bud Merritt
V1
endless gigs...endless roadhouses...
he never quit... he never counted the losses...
night after night... of near-empty rooms
sometimes just a bartender, him and his tunes
Ch
now no more crowds... no more cheers
he turns the radio up... downs a few more beers
in the corner, a battered Martin left for dead
while mystic chords of memory play... in his head
V2
behind the barn, the bus gathers dust
a Silver Eagle gone to rust
a million miles...a thousand towns
to find a stage, a pickup band, that elusive sound
Ch
but no more crowds... no more cheers
he turns the radio up... downs a few more beers
in the corner, a battered Martin lies dead
while mystic chords of memory play... in his head
Bridge:
sometimes he still hears that roar
an ovation that makes his old heart soar
Ch
but no more crowds... no more cheers
he turns the radio up... downs a few more beers
in the corner, his battered Martin.....dead
while mystic chords of memory play... in his head
mystic chords of memory play
"The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." – Abraham Lincoln, March 4, 1861, from his first inaugural address.
Mystic Chords
© 2015-2022 floyd jane and Bud Merritt
V1
endless gigs...endless roadhouses...
he never quit... he never counted the losses...
night after night... of near-empty rooms
sometimes just a bartender, him and his tunes
Ch
now no more crowds... no more cheers
he turns the radio up... downs a few more beers
in the corner, a battered Martin left for dead
while mystic chords of memory play... in his head
V2
behind the barn, the bus gathers dust
a Silver Eagle gone to rust
a million miles...a thousand towns
to find a stage, a pickup band, that elusive sound
Ch
but no more crowds... no more cheers
he turns the radio up... downs a few more beers
in the corner, a battered Martin lies dead
while mystic chords of memory play... in his head
Bridge:
sometimes he still hears that roar
an ovation that makes his old heart soar
Ch
but no more crowds... no more cheers
he turns the radio up... downs a few more beers
in the corner, his battered Martin.....dead
while mystic chords of memory play... in his head
mystic chords of memory play