017
{title:Dona, Dona}
{st:original Yiddish: Aaron Zeitlin & Shalom Secunda}
{st:English: Arthur Kevess & Teddi Schwartz}
[Am]On a w[E]agon [Am]bound for m[E]arket,
[Am]There`s a [Dm]calf with a [Am]mournful [E]eye.
[Am]High ab[E]ove him [Am]there`s a s[E]wallow
[Am]Winging s[Dm]wiftly t[E]hrough the [Am]sky.
{c:Chorus:}
[G]How the winds are l[C]aughing,
[Am]They l[G]augh with all their m[C]ight,
[G]Laugh and laugh the w[C]hole d[E]ay th[Am]rough,
And [E]half the summer`s n[Am]ight.
[E]Dona, dona, dona, d[Am]onna;
[G]Dona, dona, dona, [C]don.
[E]Dona, dona, dona, d[Am]onna;
[E]Dona, dona, dona, [Am]don.
Stop complaining, said the farmer,
Who told you a calf to be,
Why don`t you have wings to fly with,
Like the swallow so proud and free?
{c:Chorus.}
Calves are easily bound and slaughtered,
Never knowing the reason why,
But whoever treasures freedom,
Like the swallow has learned to fly.
{c:Chorus.}
Submitted to the ftp.nevada.edu:/pub/guitar archives
by Steve Putz
7 September 1992