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[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.}
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