C F G

[Verse 1]
    C                                            F
He went up on the mountain, to hear the old man play,
       G                                              C
and everything about him was steeped in the old time way.
     C                                               F
The sound he made was stirring, it was magic it was fun,
       G                                                      C
when asked what it was called back when he smiled and he said son.

[Chorus]
                G
They called it music. In the church house in the fields,
         F                           C
it was honest it was simple and it helped the hard times heal.
        G                                              F
It was music, they sang it deep down in the mines, in dark
               C              G                                  C
and lonesome prison cells, behind battle lines. They called it music.

[Verse 2]
       C                                          F
Our fathers fathers fiddle tunes on Saturdays in town,
        G                                                     C
stayed in our heads and hearts all week, until it came back around.
    C                                                   F
I swear the ghosts are with me, I can feel them when I play.
    G                                      C
It wasn't all about the money like it is today.

[Chorus]
                G
They called it music. In the church house in the fields,
         F                           C
it was honest it was simple and it helped the hard times heal.
        G                                              F
It was music, they sang it deep down in the mines, in dark
               C              G                                  C
and lonesome prison cells, behind battle lines. They called it music.

[Verse 3]
       C                                          F
Oh he didn't need to read a word, to memorize a hymn,
 G                                                 C
way down in your soul you know a seed was sown in then.
            C                                          F
There's a power in those old songs, I hope will never fade.
      G                                                   C
Some love em' like their children and don't let them get away.


[Chorus]
                G
They called it music. In the church house in the fields,
         F                           C
it was honest it was simple and it helped the hard times heal.
        G                                              F
It was music, they sang it deep down in the mines, in dark
               C              G                                  C
and lonesome prison cells, behind battle lines. They called it music.