Rock Salt And Nails — Bob Dylan

[C#] [C#] [F#] [C#]

On the banks of the [C#] river, where the willows hang [C#] down,
Where the wild birds all [A#m] warble with a low moaning [C#] sound,
Down in the [A#m] hollow where the water runs [C#] cold,
It's there I have [F#] listened to the lies that you [C#] told.

Now I lie on my [C#] bed and I see your sweet [C#] face.
The past I re[A#m]member, time cannot e[C#]rase.
The letters you [A#m] wrote me were written in [C#] shame,
And I know that your [F#] conscience still echos my [C#] pain.

Now the nights are so [C#] long, my sorrow runs [C#] deep.
Nothing is [A#m] worse than a night without [C#] sleep.
I walk out a[A#m]lone, I look at the [C#] sky,
Too empty to [F#] sing, too lonesome to [C#] cry.

Now if the ladies were [C#] blackbirds and the ladies were [C#] thrushes,
I'd lie there for [A#m] hours in the chilly cold [C#m] marshes.
If the ladies were [A#m] squirrels with them high bushy [C#] tails,
I'd fill up my [F#] shotgun with rock salt and [C#] nails.

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