It was a fine spring evening, not very long ago, when I traipsed and trudged into the bosque with perhaps the world’s shittiest microphone stand. The sun was at just the right angle, providing the perfect amount of light to ensnare baby rabbits, but this was no time for such things. I heard them scampering, far off; up to half a mile off, in fact—my ears are that well-tuned to the paws of baby bunnies; softly thumping away from my fearful footfalls, but they needn’t have feared me. That day.
For, that day I had entered the bosque for other reasons. The “city” of Albuquerque had tired me with its tiresome citylike ways. The traffic noises, the enormous trucks, those crazy kids with their rap music blasting out of their crazy souped-up cars, all a-clamor, rattling the world’s biggest mic in the world’s shittiest mic stand in the world’s least soundproofed home, all coming to life just at the moment I turn the mic on.
(There is a wool blanket hanging on the window next to me, for “soundproofing” purposes. Why? Because I am able to trick myself into believing that it’s helping. Kind of.)
Every crunch of gravel, audible. Every thump of the car-shakin’, rump-thumpin’ bass, buzzing. Every rev of every motor—yes, all the motors, each one—humming in my microphone.
It was intense sonic frustration that drove me to The Nature. And, ah! Such dangers I faced! Wood ducks, waddling through the aforementioned dry and crunchy leaves. Plagues of ninja crickets. The palpable, viceral—evisceral, even—sensation that a person might happen upon me playing a Regina Spektor song in the midst of the bosque.
Not to mention the dappled sunlight and deadly spines of some plants. Oh, and the traffic noise. Because there was some of that happening in The Nature, as well.
Yes, I braved many dangers.
And here, now, please let me present to you something that I hope can be of use to you in your next ukulele-weilding, high-flying, adventure-loving, suspense and anxiety-filled naturey experience: a somewhat sloppy transcription of Regina Spektor’s Samson that I pieced together with help from The Internet and my very own brains.
Learn it and uke hard.
Samson – Regina Spektor
B B/C# B/D# E
You are my sweetest down-fall
E F# G#m F# E
I loved you first, I loved you first
B B/C# B/D# E
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
F# G#m F# E
I have to go, I have to go
E/B E E/B
Your hair was long, when we first met
F# G#m B
Sam-son went back to bed
B E
Not much hair left on his head
F# G#m B B F#
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
F# G#m B B E
And history books for-got about us and the bible didn’t mention us
B F# G#m E
And the bi-ble didn’t mention us, not even once
B B/C# B/D# E
You are my sweetest downfall
E F# G#m F# E
I loved you first, I loved you first
B B/C# B/D# E
Beneath the stars came fallin’ on our heads
E F# G#m F# E
But they’re just old light, they’re just old light
E/B E
Your hair was long when we first met
F# G#m B
Sam-son came to my bed
B E
Told me that my hair was red
F# G#m B B F#
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed
F# G#m B
Oh I cut his hair my-self one night
B E
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light
E B
And he told me that I’d done alright
B F# G#m E
and kissed me ’til the mornin’ light, the mornin’ light
B F# G#m E
and he kissed me ’til the mornin’ light
B F# B
F# G#m B
Sam-son went back to bed
B E
not much hair left on his head
F# G#m B B F#
Ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed
F# G#m B
Oh, we couldn’t bring the columns down
B E
Yeah we couldn’t destroy a single one
E B
And history books forgot about us
B F#/A# G#m E
And the bible didn’t mention us, not even once
B B/C# B/D# E
You are my sweetest downfall
F# G#m
I loved you first