Peter Anderson & Co Chords by Slim Dusty

[A#] _ [C#] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _
[F#] _ [G#] _ _ _ _ [F#] _
_ _ [C#] _ _ _ _
He had offices in Sydney [G#] many years ago, and his shingle bore the legends [F#] Peter Anderson [C#] and co.
_ But his real name was Kellas, as the [G#] fellows understood, and his relatives decided [F#] that he wasn't [C#] any good.
_ T'was their gentle tongues that blasted any [F#] character he had.
[G#] He was fond of beer and leisure, [F#] and the co was [C#] just as bad.
_ It was limited in number, to a unit [F#] was the co.
T'was [G#] a bosom chum of Peter, and his [F#] Christian [C#] name was Joe.
_ Oh, the office was their haven, for [G#] they lived there when hired up, a daily for a table, cloth, [F#] a jam tin [C#] for a cup.
_ If perchance the landlord's bailiff [G#] happened round in times like these, just to seize the office fittings, well, [F#] there wasn't much [C#] to seize.
_ And when morning brought the bailiff, there'd be nothing to [F#] be seen, [G#] save a piece of beveled cedar [F#] where the tenant's plate [C#] had been.
_ _ And there'd be no sign of Peter, and there'd be no sign [F#] of Joe, [G#] but another portal boasted, [F#] Peter Anderson [C#] and co.
_ _ Peter always met you smiling, [G#] always seemed to know you well, always gay and glad to see you, [F#] always had a [C#] joke to tell.
_ He could laugh when all was gloomy, he could [G#] grin when all was blue, sing a comic song and act it, [F#] and appreciate [C#] one too.
_ _ Glorious, drunk and happy, till they heard the [F#] rooster's crow, [G#] but the landlady and neighbours [F#] made complaints about [C#] the co.
_ _ That that life it might be likened to a reckless drinking [F#] song, [G#] but it couldn't last forever, [F#] and it never [C#] lasted long. _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ [F#] _ _ [G#] _
_ _ _ [F#] _ _ [C#] _
_ _ _ _ Debt collecting ruined Peter, [G#] people talked him round too oft, for his heart was soft as butter, [F#] and the co.'s.' was just [C#] as soft. _ But of course it wasn't business, [G#] only Peter's careless way, and perhaps it pays in heaven, [F#] but on earth it [C#] doesn't pay. _ They got harder up than ever, and to make it worse [F#] the co. [G#] went more often round the corner, [F#] than was good for him [C#] to go. _ I might live, he said to Peter, but I haven't got [F#] the nerve, [G#] I am going, Peter going, [F#] going no [C#] reserve. _ _ _ _ Peter mourned his buried comrade, [G#] feeling beaten and bereft, paid the undertaker cash and then [F#] got drunk on what [C#] was left. _ _ Then he shed some tears half maudlin, [G#] on the grave where lay the co., and he drifted to a township [F#] where the city [C#] failures go. _ In a town of wrecks and failures they appreciated [F#] him, [G#] men who might have been who had been, but [F#] who were not in [C#] the swim. _ _ They would ask him who the co. was, that queer company [F#] he kept, and [G#] he'd always answer vaguely, he [F#] would say his partner [C#] slept. _ That he had a sleeping partner, [G#] jesting while his spirit broke, and they grinned above their glasses, for [F#] they took it for [C#] a joke. _ Till at last there came a morning, when [G#] his smile was seen no more, he was gone from out the office, [F#] and he shingled from the [C#] door. _ And a boundary rider jogging out across the [F#] neighboring run, [G#] was attracted by a something [F#] that was blazing [C#] in the sun. _ And he found that it was Peter, lying peacefully [F#] at rest, [G#] with a bottle close beside him, [F#] and the shingle [C#] on his breast. _ _ Yes he had offices in Sydney, [G#] many years ago, and his shingle bore the legend of [F#] Peter Anderson [C#] and co. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _