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The Story Is Written by Lake Fork Verne



    The Story Is Written 





Banjo tuned Eb play Key of D
 
     D                E
This is about Frenchy Dubois,
          A              D
Who was a growing, lanky boy
                            E
On a Christmas tree farm in Illinois
              A                  D
The hero in a novel I wrote with joy-(D-7)
 
    G                  D
The Story is about his plight,
      E                                 A
Being raised by a mean Uncle and looney Aunt
      D                           A
Bruno and Aunt Viney, were always right
                               D      D7
Frenchy stayed away from their rant.-
 
   G                        D
He took cover in his secret cave,
       E                              A
Hidden by the weeds and brush on Salt Creek
    D                    A
Put away in a rock-lined safe,
                                D
His journal, he wrote in, every week
 
[Chorus]
                E
So the story is written,
           A         D
It is in a box on my shelf
                      E
Covered with slips of rejection
                          A       D       D7
Waiting to be discovered, void of myself-
 
        G                                  D
Stories about how his kin homesteaded this place
         E                       A
Clearing the timber to make crop land
          D                                   A
Now, full circle, his dad, replaced corn with trees
                                  D    D7
Frenchy was growing up, lending a hand
 
   G                                   D
In a few short years, and he became of age,
    E                                   A
The tree farm would be his per his dads will
          D                                 A
But until then, Bruno and Viney wrote every page
                                     D
And Frenchy could only dream of this thrill.
 
[Chorus]
                E
So the story is written,
           A         D
It is in a box on my shelf
                      E
Covered with slips of rejection
                          A       D
Waiting to be discovered, void of myself.






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