Bob Dylan - Tombstone Blues - аккорды

[ Предположительная тональность: G ]

G                              C            G
The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
G                         C           G
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
G                     C             G
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
G                    C           G
But the town has no need to be nervous.

The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce.

C
Mama's in the fact'ry
           G
She ain't got no shoes
C
Daddy's in the alley
       G
He's lookin' for food
C
I'm in the kitchen
                      G
With the tombstone blues.

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made."
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the boys in."

Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride.
You will not die, it's not poison."

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.

Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry."
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken."

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.

The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle.

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle.

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in trouble
With the tombstone blues.

The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.

I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after.

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.

Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks' home in the college.

I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you, dear lady, from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.

I'ma sucka for corn rows and manicured toes (hey)
Fendi capri pants and Parasuco's (alright)
High saddity and city, with one or two clothes
I'm draftin 'em outta high school straight into the pros
Who knows? I know!
And I love it when you make your knees touch your elbows
And break it down low to the flo', and there you go
Now throw it on me slow
And everytime I +Busta Rhyme+, baby "Gimme Some Mo'"
You say you like that, when I hit it from behind
And I'll be right back; yeah that's my very next line
I use it - time after time, when I'm speakin my mind
It's no matter if I'm shootin game to a pigeon or dime
I ask her, "Who dat is, talkin that shit about the 'tics?"
Somebody probably jealous cause they bitch got hit
But ain't nobody else droppin shit like this
Should we apologize? Nah fuck 'em, just leave 'em pissed, HEY!

[Chorus: repeat 2X]

Andele andele mami, E.I. E.I.
Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! What's poppin tonight?
Andele andele mami, E.I. E.I.
Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! If the head right, Nelly there ery'night

[Nelly]
We can gamble to the break of dawn, nigga
Money long, nigga
Pass up the skirt to talk to the thong, nigga
Some say I'm wrong, but fuck it I'm grown, nigga
If you ain't bout money then best be gone, nigga
I'm flashy (uh) double takes when you walk past me
Nasty, don't be scared boo, go 'head and ask me
I drive fastly, call me Jeff Gord-on
In the black SS with the naviga-tion
See the joint blaz-on, somethin smells amaz-on
I got a chick rollin up, half black and asian
Another one pagin, tellin me to come home
Her husband on vacation and left her home alone
I used the V-12, powers; weight loss, powers
From +Phat Farm+ to +Iceberg Slim+ in one shower
Get a room in Trump Towers just to hit the wee hours
Kicked the bitch up out the room cause she used the word ours, HEY!

[Chorus]

[Nelly]
Aiyyo I smash-mouth a whole ounce, of that sticky
Wash my hands under a gold spout, when feelin icky
Let go off in a ho's mouth, I ain't picky
Start frontin when the shows out - whatchu mean?!
Twenty inches when they roll ouuuuuuut - come and get me
Big faces when they fold ouuuuuuut - is you wit me?
Don't make me pull that fo'-fo' ouuuuuuut
I keep it closer when the dough ouuuuuuut
Then I slide up in the Escalade
Me and E gettin solid like the Ice Capades
And me and Heezy - frosty, Roger the Rabbit and Bugsy
You understand me, wrapped wrists like mummies
If you compare me to your local grocery
Then you'll see I got more carrots/karats than "Aisle D"
More bread than "Aisle G", then bag and scan me
+Sure+ like +Al B.+, meet the 'tics in Maui, HEY!


Alternative (Capo 2):
G = E
C = A