The Wind Cries Mary
Jimi Hendrix
| |: | F | (I.) | F# | G | - - - | F | (octave) | E | F | - - - | :| |
| | | | | | | | | | | | |
| D | C | G |
| After all the | jacks are in their | boxes |
| D | C | G |
| And the | clowns have | all gone to | bed |
| D | C | G |
| You can hear | happiness | staggering on | down the street |
| A | C | F | F# | G |
| Footsteps | dressed in | red | | |
| A | C | Eb | E | F | - - - | Eb | E | F |
| And the | wind | whispers | Mar | y | | | | | |
| D | C | G |
| A | broom is | drearily | sweeping |
| D | C | G |
| Up the broken | pieces of yesterday's | life |
| D | C | G |
| Somewhere a | queen is | weeping |
| A | C | F | F# | G |
| Somewhere a | king has no | wif | e | |
| A | C | F | F# | G | - - - | F | F# | G |
| And the | wind | cries | Mar | y | | | | | |
| D | C | G |
| The traffic lights turn | blue to | morrow |
| D | C | G |
| And shine the | emptyness down on my | bed. |
| D | C | G |
| The tiny island | sags | downstream |
| A | C | F | F# | G |
| ' | Cause the life that | lived is | dea | d. | |
| A | C | F | F# | G | - - - | F | F# | G |
| And the | wind | screams | Mar | y | | | | | |
| D | C | G |
| Will the wind | ever re | member |
| D | C | G |
| The | names it has | blown in the | past. |
| D | C | G |
| With it's | crutch, it's | old age, and it's | wisdom, |
| A | C | F | F# | G |
| It whispers | no, this will | be the | las | t. | |
| A | C | F | F# | G | - - - | F | F# | G | - - - | F | F# | G | - - - | F | F# | G |
| And the | wind | cries | Mar | y | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
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