Postcards From Italy taby ukulele według Beirut

F |F | A |A

     F
The times we had
              A
Oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow 
     F
Were not all bad 
            A
We put our feet just where they had 
       F
Had to go
         A
Never to go 

     F
The shattered soul 
           A
Following close but nearly twice as slow 
     F
Were my good times 
                  A
There were always golden rocks to throw 
          F
At those who 
A     
Those who admit defeat too late 
       F
Those were our times 
       A
Those were our times 

    Bb    F                     Dm 
And I will love to see that day
      C
That day is mine
     Bb         F
When she will marry me
   Dm             C
Outside with the willow trees
Bb    F              Dm 
And playing songs in May
      C
What made me so
    Bb      F
And I would love to see that day
     C
The day was mine