A He rode through the streets of the city D Down from his hill on high A O'er the winds and the steps and the cobble E He rode to a woman's sigh For she was his secret treasure She was his shame and his bliss And a chain and a keep are nothing Compared to a woman's kiss A D For hands of gold are always cold G A But a woman's hands are warm A D For hands of gold are always cold G A But a woman's hands are warm | TransposeReset Font sizeReset Chords fingeringsA D E G |