VERSE 1
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To the bar he goes in his half grown beard
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and his workman's clothes
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Till closing time he will sit and think of the things
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that he did in his prime
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When his hair was longer, and his ideals were stronger
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before he let things pass
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When he thought he was the voice of the working class
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he really thought he was the voice of the working class
VERSE 2
But the years rolled by and they took their toll
one grows tired and one grows old
looks for a temporary situation
might as well wait for his superanuation
Now he hardly thinks of a manuscript he wrote
he sits and drinks in a Fitzroy pub
and refuses to admit that he has missed the boat
He refuses to admit that he has missed the boat
BRIDGE
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But Oh! the memories, of wild nights spent in Carlton bars
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And oh the tales he tells, of dexydrin and borrowed cars
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His hands they shake, his eyes they glaze
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He exaggerates his Whitlam days
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We all grow old, we all get fat
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Pray to God we don't all go like that
VERSE 3
As the night rolls on and it's getting late
So it's off home to house he hates
For the restless sleep on the clean white sheets
and the morning when his head will ache
just it time to catch a train
and start the whole thing fresh again
But is fresh the word you'd use?
Not much to win, much too much to lose
CHORUS (chords as bridge)
Do not go gently, do not go sad
Do not go gently, do not go sad
Do not go gently, do not go sad
Do not go gently, do not go sad
REPEAT