The Cowboy: accordi di
Ed Mccurdy
Ed Mccurdy

N/A
Tonalità: Db major
Verse 1
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All day
on the
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prairie in the saddle I ride
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Not even a dog hoist to trot by my side
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My fire I must kindle
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with chips gathered round
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And boil my own coffee
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without being ground
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I wash in the pool and I sleep on a sack,
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I carry my wardrobe on my
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back.
For want of an oven
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I cook bread in a pot,
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And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.
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My ceiling is the sky,
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my floor is the grass,
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My music is the lowing of
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herds as they pass.
My books are the brooks,
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my sermons the stones,
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My par son is a wolf
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on his pulpit of bones.
And then if my cooking's
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not very complete
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You can't blame me for wanting to eat
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But show me a man
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who sleeps more profound
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Than the big puncher boy
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who sleeps on the ground
My books teach me ever
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-consistent surprise
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My sermons, that small things
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I should not des pise.
My parson remarks from
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his pul pit of thrones,
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That fortune favors those who
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look out for their own.
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Between me and love
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lies a gulf very wide,
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Some lucky fellow may call her his bride.
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My friends gently hint I am coming to grief,
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But men must make money,
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and women have beef.
But why, it is I can ne 'er
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understand,
For each of the patriarchs
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owned a big brand.
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Abraham emigrated in search of a range
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When water was scarce,
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he wanted a change
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Old Isaac owned cattle in charge of Esau
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And Jacob punched cows
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for his father -in -law
Outro 1
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