Biography:
Hawksley Workman (born March 4, 1975) is the stage name of Ryan Corrigan, a Canadian rock singer-songwriter who has acquired critical approval for his original yet accessible blend of cabaret pop and glam rock.
He was born in Ontario, Canada, near Huntsville in the Muskoka region, north of Toronto. To pursue his musical career, he later moved to Toronto.
His first album, 1999's "For Him and the Girls" earned him comparisons to the likes of Tom Waits, Rheostatics and Harry Nilsson.
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Other songs:
- All The Trees Are Hers
- Anger As Beauty
- Autumns Here
- Battlefords
- Beautiful And Natural
- Clever Not Beautiful
- Dont Be Crushed
- Even An Ugly Man
- Goodbye To Radio
- Ice Age
- Jealous Of Your Cigarette
- Maniacs
- Merry Christmas I Love You
- No Beginning No End
- No Sissies
- Oh You Delicate Heart
- Prettier Face
- Safe And Sound
- Smoke Baby
- Stop Joking Around
- The Ground We Stand On
- They Decided Not To Like Us
- Warhols Portrait Of Gretzky
- We Will Still Need A Song
- What Would You Say To Me Lord
- When These Mountains Were The Seashore
- You And The Candles
- You Are Too Beautiful
- Your Beauty Must Be Rubbing Off
Four years of hard work!This month of May we celebrated four years on the air. We continue working on the dissemination of this wonderful instrument, thank you for participating in our story!
Got this from another site, the chords sound good to me. Not sure about what he's
got written for the bridge though.
Autumns Here v1
Hawksley Workman
G D Am C
You can tell by the wind,
By fresh cut wood all stacked to dry,
That autumn's here,
It makes you sad about the crumby summer we had,
With pine trees creaking,
The ravens screeching,
Just like the story my grandma tells,
About when a bird hits your window,
And someone you know is about to die,
That autumn's here, autumns here, it's ok if you want to cry,
‘Cause autumns here, autumns here, autumns here
G D Am C
So f ind a swe ater and you‘ll be better,
Until the kindling is tinder dry,
We can be quite as we walk down,
To see the graveyard where they are now,
I wonder how they brought their piano
To Holding Hill from old Berlin
Be hard to keep it, it well in tune,
With winters like the one that's coming soon
‘Cause autumns here, autumns here, autumns here
Its time to cry now that autumn's here,
And autumns here, autumns here,
Its ok if you want to cry ‘cause autumns here
(Bridge - A# - C … trumpets, yadda, yadda, yadda…)
G D Am C
I th ink that ghosts like the colder weather,
When leaves turn colour they get together,
And walk along these,
These old back roads,
Where no one lives there and no one goes
With all there hopes set on the railway
That never came there and no one stayed
I guess that autumn gets you remembering,
And the smallest things can make you cry
And autumns here, autumns here, autumns here, and autumns here,
Autumns here, its time to cry ‘cause autumns here, oh oh oh,
Autumns here, autumns here, its ok now, cause autumns here.
got written for the bridge though.
Autumns Here v1
Hawksley Workman
G D Am C
You can tell by the wind,
By fresh cut wood all stacked to dry,
That autumn's here,
It makes you sad about the crumby summer we had,
With pine trees creaking,
The ravens screeching,
Just like the story my grandma tells,
About when a bird hits your window,
And someone you know is about to die,
That autumn's here, autumns here, it's ok if you want to cry,
‘Cause autumns here, autumns here, autumns here
G D Am C
So f ind a swe ater and you‘ll be better,
Until the kindling is tinder dry,
We can be quite as we walk down,
To see the graveyard where they are now,
I wonder how they brought their piano
To Holding Hill from old Berlin
Be hard to keep it, it well in tune,
With winters like the one that's coming soon
‘Cause autumns here, autumns here, autumns here
Its time to cry now that autumn's here,
And autumns here, autumns here,
Its ok if you want to cry ‘cause autumns here
(Bridge - A# - C … trumpets, yadda, yadda, yadda…)
G D Am C
I th ink that ghosts like the colder weather,
When leaves turn colour they get together,
And walk along these,
These old back roads,
Where no one lives there and no one goes
With all there hopes set on the railway
That never came there and no one stayed
I guess that autumn gets you remembering,
And the smallest things can make you cry
And autumns here, autumns here, autumns here, and autumns here,
Autumns here, its time to cry ‘cause autumns here, oh oh oh,
Autumns here, autumns here, its ok now, cause autumns here.
Hayden McGlinn
Hayden Smith
Hayden Stone
Haydn Hernandez
Hayede