Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands Tabulatur von Joan Baez

This is the Joan Baez version of the
Bob Dylan song expertly done by my 
dear friend
Hutagalung. If you wanted an 
accurate version of this song; this 
is it!

B       D#m                    
With your mercury mouth in the 
E          F#
missionary times,
        B         D#m            
And your eyes like smoke and your 
   E           F#
prayers like rhymes,
        E       D#m            
And your silver cross, and your 
  E         B
voice like chimes,
      D#m                   E   
Oh, who among them do they think 
       F#
could bury you?
 B         D#m           E        
With your pockets well protected at
 F#
last,
 B         D#m                     
And your streetcar visions which you
E          F#
place on the grass,
           E        D#m           
And your flesh like silk, and your 
 E        F#
face like glass,
    D#m                   E       
Who among them do they think could 
  F#
carry you?

---- Chorus:
C#m        E           B    F#
Sad eyed lady of the lowlands,
C#m                E                
Where the sad eyed prophet says that
 B        F#
no man comes,
   B   D#m    E      B    E     F#
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
    G#M                    C#m
Should I leave them by your gate,
  E                       B    
Or sad eyed lady, should I wait?
  (Transition to next verse)  
D#m, G#m, F#
----
With your sheets like metal and your
belt like lace,
And your deck of cards missing the 
jack and the ace,
And your basement clothes and your 
hollow face,
Who among them can think he could 
outguess you?
With your silhouette when the 
sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight 
swims,
And your match-book songs and your 
gypsy hymns,
Who among them would try to impress 
you?


[Chorus]
The kings of Tyrus with their 
convict list
Are waiting in line for their 
geranium kiss,
And you wouldn't know it would 
happen like this,
But who among them really wants just
to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your 
midnight rug,
And your Spanish manners and your 
mother's drugs,
And your cowboy mouth and your 
curfew plugs,
Who among them do you think could 
resist you?
[Chorus]
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen,
they all did decide
To show you the dead angels that 
they used to hide.
But why did they pick you to 
sympathize with their side?
Oh, how could they ever mistake you?
They wished you'd accepted the blame
for the farm,
But with the sea at your feet and 
the phony false alarm,
And with the child of a hoodlum 
wrapped up in your arms,
How could they ever, ever persuade 
you?
[Chorus]
With your sheet metal memory of 
Cannery Row,
And your magazine-husband who one 
day just had to go,
And your gentleness now, which you 
just can't help but show,
Who among them do you think would 
employ you?
Now you stand with your thief, 
you're on his parole
With your holy medallion which your 
fingertips fold,
And your saintlike face and your 
ghostlike soul,
Oh, who among them do you think 
could destroy you?
(B D#m G#m F#...repeat until fade)