O Miserere chords by Leonard Bernstein

SimplifiedG · C · Bb · Dm · D …

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Verse 1
G 
What happens to the noble youth, Candide,
when obliged to fend for himself
in this best of all possible worlds?
A well -built youth!
About the right height, too.
Good day, young man.
Alas, it's hardly a good day for me, sirs.
I'm half dead from hunger and thirst.
Well, that's easily taken care of.
In this sack,
we have a couple of boiled fowl
and a beef bone.
You're welcome to share them.
I am?
What are civilized gentlemen for,
not to help their brothers in
distress, hmm?
C 
G 
Oh, this is a good world.
I knew it.
I knew my dear master
could not have been mistaken.
It's obvious to us, sir,
that you are an affectionate youth
who can love tenderly.
Ah, yes, indeed.
I love Mademoiselle Kunuganda
with all the tenderness in the world.
In fact, sir, we were referring
to that champion of Islam,
the king of the Bulgarians.
Bb 
C 
Unfortunately, sir,
I'm not acquainted
G 
with the gentleman.
C 
and being a Westphalian
G 
and a Christian myself.
Ah, but were you to know his majesty,
you could not fail to love him.
Here, you must drink to his health.
C 
Oh, thank you,
G 
That's it, you've drunk
C 
the king's health.
Bb 
G 
You've enlisted in to
the sack with him.
Shut up.
You're now the
hero of the Bulgarians.
And your glory assured
in the forthcoming war
against Westphalia.
C 
G 
But sir, even as he spoke,
the Bulgarian army
was swarming across the Westphalian border,
slaughtering and liberating the populace,
surging closer, ever closer,
to the doomed castle of
Dm 
Fundertenfrank.
Almighty God,
G 
who in the beginning of time
bequeathed this sacred serfdom
to my most Christian ancestors.
Look down, and in your infinite mercy,
Dm 
destroy the heathen Bulgarian invaders.
Bb 
Oh, blessed Holy Mother,
Dm 
D 
Dm 
I vow a candle for every swinish Is
F 
Bb 
G 
lamite who bites the dust.
C 
Dear God, who has given me
G 
the incomparable gift of beauty,
Dm 
See to it that whatever holocaust occurs,
G 
my features may escape disfigurement.
For my admirer's sake, amen.
Dm 
O dear Lord,
G 
Dm 
send my beloved  Candide back to me,
G 
C 
for surely he and only he can save me
from the dreadful fate of ravishment.
Prayers are not always granted.
Bb 
In  the middle of the Anya's day,
Bulgarian soldiers,
their swords flashing,
C 
burst into the chapel.
Die, infidel dogs!
The wench is mine!
Oh, sir!
Oh, please!
Oh, no!
Not ravishment!
Ninety -seven men
G 
C 
Dm 
and a company at twenty ducats per!
My fortune's made!
C 
The next morning,
after a taxing night
in the Bulgarian army camp,
Kunaganda was disposed of by her ravisher
C 
on a convenient pile of peasant corpses.
Oh, dear Candide,
C 
where are you now?
Still in the sack,
as a matter of fact,
his abductors having been shot
as they were rolling out
their prayer match to bow to the East.