Harry Chapin: If My Mary Were Here
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Harry Chapin: If My Mary Were Here
I would not be so stoned
If my Mary were here
I don't think I'd have phoned you
If my Mary were here
I'm a sad sack Sir Galahad
Who's sword's around his knees
With a Grail no longer holy
And a prayer that's saying - please
I would not be alone
If my Mary were here
But she took off
And Lord I'm lost.
I don't think I'd be drinking
If my Mary were here
And I know what I'd be thinking
If my Mary were here
We'd be wrapping up a blanket
Full of cheddar cheese and wine
Packing up our camper with a rendezvous in mind
And we'd picnic out in Lincoln Park
If Mary were here
But she split
So I got lit
I'm sorry that I called you
In the middle of the night
But you're the one who listens
When I need a little light
I know we haven't talked
Since I dropped you in the dirt
I know you're not my lady now
But Baby, how I hurt.
(I could whistle up an old tune
That your memory might recall
Rustle up some reminisce
'Bout the good old days and all
If I were seeking someone else
I could find a way to hide
But I'm pleading like a pauper, Babe
And it leaves no place for pride)
I would toss away my troubles
When my Mary was here
But now I'm lost inside the ruble
Cause my Mary's not here
So could I come on over
With my heart in my hands
And place it on your pillow
Like a rusty old tin can
I'm drunk and seeing double
And my Mary's not here
Once again
Be the friend
That you've been
And take me in.
Please take me in.
If my Mary were here
I don't think I'd have phoned you
If my Mary were here
I'm a sad sack Sir Galahad
Who's sword's around his knees
With a Grail no longer holy
And a prayer that's saying - please
I would not be alone
If my Mary were here
But she took off
And Lord I'm lost.
I don't think I'd be drinking
If my Mary were here
And I know what I'd be thinking
If my Mary were here
We'd be wrapping up a blanket
Full of cheddar cheese and wine
Packing up our camper with a rendezvous in mind
And we'd picnic out in Lincoln Park
If Mary were here
But she split
So I got lit
I'm sorry that I called you
In the middle of the night
But you're the one who listens
When I need a little light
I know we haven't talked
Since I dropped you in the dirt
I know you're not my lady now
But Baby, how I hurt.
(I could whistle up an old tune
That your memory might recall
Rustle up some reminisce
'Bout the good old days and all
If I were seeking someone else
I could find a way to hide
But I'm pleading like a pauper, Babe
And it leaves no place for pride)
I would toss away my troubles
When my Mary was here
But now I'm lost inside the ruble
Cause my Mary's not here
So could I come on over
With my heart in my hands
And place it on your pillow
Like a rusty old tin can
I'm drunk and seeing double
And my Mary's not here
Once again
Be the friend
That you've been
And take me in.
Please take me in.
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Harry Chapin: If My Mary Were Here
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