Letters From Home taby ukulele według John Michael Montgomery

Intro - C
 
 
 
 
(verse 1)
C
My dearest son it's almost June,
 
I hope this letter catches up with you,
    F
And finds you well,
C
It's been dry but they're callin for rain,
 
Everything's the same ol' same,
   F
In Johnsonville,
 
 
 
(bridge)
Am                 G                    F
 Your stuborn old daddy ain't said too much,
                          Dm
But I'm sure you know he sends his love,
             Gsus-G                    C
And she goes on,     in a letter from home,
 
 
 
(chorus)
F
I hold it up and show my buddy's like we ain't scared
                                C
and our boots ain't muddy, And they all laugh,
             G                            Am
Like there's somethin funny bout the way I talk,
                           F
When I say mama sends her best ya'll,
   F
I fold it up and put it in my shirt,
 
Pick up my gun and get back to work,
C        G             Am
 And it keeps me drivin on,
        F   G               C
Waitin on,    Letters from home,
 
 
 
(verse 2)
C
My dearest love it's almost dawn,
 
I've been lyin here all night long,
        F
Wonderin where you might be,
C
I saw your mama and I showed her the ring,
 
Man on the television said something,
F
So I couldn't sleep,
 
 
(bridge)
Am              G                     F
  But I'll be alright I'm just missin you,
                Dm                 Gsus-G
And this is me kissin you, X's and O's,
                  C
In a letter from home,
 
 
 
(chorus)
F
I hold it up and show my buddy's like we ain't scared
                               C
and our boots ain't muddy, And they all laugh,
           G                      Am
Cause she calls me honey but they take it hard,
                         F
Cause I don't read the good part,
   F
I fold it up and put it in my shirt,
 
Pick up my gun and get back to work,
C        G             Am
 And it keeps me drivin on,
        F   G               C
Waitin on,    Letters from home,
 
 
 
 
(bridge)
F
Dear son I know I ain't written,
    F                                             C
But sittin here tonight alone in the kitchen it occurs to me,
   G                             Am
I might not have said it so I'll say it now,
                  F   G   F
Son you make me proud,
 
 
 
 
(chorus)
F
I hold it up and show my buddy's like we ain't scared
                                   C
and our boots ain't muddy, but no one laughs,
             G                         Am
Cause there ain't nothin funny when a soldier cries,
             F
And I just wipe my eyes,
 F
I fold it up and put it in my shirt,
 
Pick up my gun and get back to work,
C        G             Am
 And it keeps me drivin on,
        F   Gsus   G               C
Waitin on,          Letters from home,