Вступление
Robyn Hitchcock
Point It At Gran
Am F
Alone and pointless by her mouldering self
C Dm
She stares at the tin of sardines on the shelf
Am E
By a paraffin lamp in a dingy brown room
Am E Am
Gran sits and broods in the thickening gloom
Dm Am
It's a gloom that congeals; it's so greasy and thick
E Am
You could cut into strips and roast on a stick
Dm Am
And hand round to friends but there's nobody there
Am E
Just Gran, on her own, in a miserable chair
E
So don't point it at me
Am
Point it at Gran
F
She needs it more than I do
C
And more than Princess Anne
Dm
When Princess Anne's eighty-two
Am
And living in a one room flat in Hackney
E
Maybe she could do with a bit as well
E
Don't point it at me
Am
Don't point it at yourself
F
Just point it at Gran
C
And the sardines on the shelf
Dm
Don't point it at me
Am
I've had more than enough
E
Just point it at Gran
She could do with plenty of stuff
E
Don't point it at me
Am
Point it at Gran
F
Well, it could be a firehose
C
Or it could be a flan
Dm
Now some people are happy
Am
And some people are bored
E
And some people are left
And completely ignored
F Am E
So why should your life end on a dismal note?
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