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Late Monday Kulturbrunch Unna (21.4.)
________________ 1. Teil ________________
  1. Horse With No Name
America
|  | Em | D6add9 | 
|  | On the first part of the | journey | 
| I was lookin at all the life |  | 
| There were plants and birds and rocks and things |  | 
| There were sand and hills and rings |  | 
| The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz |  | 
| and the sky with no clouds |  | 
| the heat was hot and the ground was dry |  | 
| but the air was full of sound |  | 
|  | Em9 | Dmaj9 | 
|  | I've been through the desert on a | horse with no name | 
| it felt good to be out of the rain |  | 
| in the desert you can remember your name |  | 
| 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain |  | 
| la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la |  | 
  
| After two days in the desert sun |  | 
| my skin began to turn red |  | 
| After three days in the desert fun |  | 
| I was looking at a river bed |  | 
| And the story it told of a river that flowed |  | 
| made me sad to think it was dead |  | 
| I've been through the desert ... |  | 
  
| After nine days I let the horse run free |  | 
| 'cause the desert had turned to sea |  | 
| there were plants and birds and rocks and things |  | 
| there were sand and hills and rings |  | 
| The ocean is a desert with it's life underground |  | 
| and the perfect disguise above |  | 
| Under the cities lies a heart made of ground |  | 
| but the humans will give no love |  | 
| I've been through the desert ... |  | 
  
 
G--------------|-------------|
D--------------|-------------|
A--7--5--7--5--|-7-----5-----|
E--------------|----7-----5--|
 
 
  2. It never rains in Southern California
Albert Hammond
|  | Bm | E | A | 
| Got on | board a west-bound | seven-forty- | seven, | 
|  | Bm | E | A | 
| didn't | think before de | ciding what to | do. | 
|  | Bm | E | 
| All, that | talk of oppor | tunities, | 
|  | A | F#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  | TV-breaks and | movies rang | true, | sure rang | true. | 
|  | Bm | E | A | 
| Seems it | never rains in | Southern Cali | fornia. | 
|  | Bm | E | A | 
| Seems I've | often heard that | kind of talk be | fore. | 
|  | Bm | E | A | F#m | 
| It never | rains in Cali | fornia, but | girl don't they | warn you, | 
|  | Bm | E | A | 
| it | pou- | ours, man, it | pours. | 
|  | Bm | E | A | F#m | 
| Out of | work I'm out of my | head, out of | self-respect, I'm out of | bread, | 
|  | Bm | E | A | 
| I'm under | talked, I'm under | fed, I wanna go | home. | 
|  | Bm | E | A | F#m | 
| It never | rains in Cali | fornia, but | girl don't they | warn you, | 
|  | Bm | E | A | 
| it | pou- | ours, man, it | pours. | 
  
| Will you tell the folks at home, I nearly made it. |  | 
| Got offers but don't know which one to take. |  | 
| Please don't tell'em, how you found me, |  | 
| don't tell me how they found me, |  | 
| gimmie a break, gimmie a break. |  | 
| Seems it never rains in Southern California. |  | 
| Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before. |  | 
| It never rains in California, but girl don't they warn you, |  | 
| Out of work I'm out of my head, out of self-respect, I'm out of bread, |  | 
| I'm undertalked, I'm underfed, I wanna go home. |  | 
| It never rains in Califonia, but girl don't they warn you, |  | 
  
 
  3. All Along The Watchtower
Bob Dylan / Jimi Hendrix: Electric Ladyland (1967)
|  | |: | Am |  |  | G | F | G |  | :| | 
|  |  | //// | / |  | / | //// | / | / |  | 
|  | Am | G | F | G | Am | 
|  | "There must be some | kind of way | out of here," | / / / / | / | 
|  | G | F | G | Am | 
| Said the | joker to the | thief: | / / / / | / | 
| "There's too much confusion, |  | 
| Businessmen, they drink my wine; |  | 
| None of them along the line - |  | 
| Know what any of it is worth!” |  | 
| All along the watchtower, |  | 
| While all the women came and went, |  | 
  
| “No reason to get excited,” |  | 
| The thief, he kindly spoke: |  | 
| “There are many here among us |  | 
| Who feel that life is but a joke. |  | 
| But you and I, we’ve been through that, |  | 
| And this is not our fate! |  | 
| So let us not talk falsely now, |  | 
| the hour is getting late!” |  | 
| All along the watchtower, |  | 
| While all the women came and went, |  | 
  
| Two riders were approaching, |  | 
| And the wind began to howl. |  | 
| While all the women came and went |  | 
  
 
  4. Heart of Gold
Neil Young/Neil Young: Harvest (1972)
|  | Em | C | D | G | 
|  | I wanna | live, | I wanna | give, | 
|  | Em | C | D | G | 
|  | I've been a | miner for a | heart of | gold. | 
|  | Em | C | D | G | 
|  | It's these ex | pressions | I never | give | 
|  | Em | G | 
|  | that keep me searchin' for a | heart of gold, | 
|  | C | Bm | Am | G | 
|  | And I'm gettin' old. |  |  |  | 
|  | Em | G | 
|  | Keep me searchin' for a | heart of gold, | 
|  | C | Bm | Am | G | 
|  | And I'm gettin' old. |  |  |  | 
|  | Em | C | D | G | 
|  | I've been to | Hollywood, | I've been to | Redwood, | 
|  | Em | C | D | G | 
|  | I'd cross the | ocean for a | heart of | gold, | 
|  | Em | C | D | G | 
|  | I've been in | my mind, | it's such a | fine line | 
|  | Em | G | 
|  | that keeps me searchin' for a | heart of gold, | 
|  | C | Bm | Am | G | 
|  | And I'm gettin' old, |  |  |  | 
|  | Em | G | 
|  | Keeps me searchin' for a | heart of gold, | 
|  | C | Bm | Am | G | 
|  | And I'm gettin' old. |  |  |  | 
|  | Em | D | Em | 
|  | Keep me searchin' for a | heart of | gold, | 
|  | D | Em | 
| You keep me searchin' and I'm | growin' | old. | 
|  | D | Em | 
| Keep me searchin' for a | heart of | gold, | 
|  | G | C | Bm | Am | G | 
| I've been a miner for a | heart of gold | . |  |  |  | 
 
  5. Midnight Special
Huddie Leadbetter
|  | G# | C# | G# | 
|  | Well, you wake up in the | morning Hear the ding-dong | ring | 
|  | D#7 | G# | G#7 | 
| Go marching to the | table, See the same old | thing! |  | 
|  | G# | C# | G# | 
|  | Well, it's on the | table, Knife and fork and a | pan! | 
|  | D#7 | G# | G#7 | 
| If you say anything a- | bout it You're in trouble with the | man |  | 
|  | C# | G# | 
| |: Let the minight | special Shine it's light on | me; | 
|  | D#7 | G# | G#7 | 
| Let the midnight | special Shine it's everloving light on | me! | :| | 
  
|  | G# | C# | G# | 
|  | If you ever go to | Houston, Boy you'd better walk | right. | 
|  | D#7 | G# | G#7 | 
| You better not | stagger And you better not | fight. |  | 
|  | C# | G# | 
| 'Cause the Sheriff will ar | rest you And he'll carry you | down; | 
|  | D#7 | G# | G#7 | 
| You can bet your bottom | dollar: You're Sugarland | bound! |  | 
| Let the minight special ... |  | 
  
|  | G# | C# | G# | 
|  | Yonder came Doc' | Melton, Just the day | before, | 
|  | C# | G# | 
| And he gave me a | tablet, when he opend the | door. | 
|  | G# | C# | G# | 
|  | But there never was a | doctor Trav'llin' over the | land, | 
|  | G# | C# | G# | 
|  | that could cure the | fever of a convict | man. | 
| Let the minight special ... |  | 
  
|  | G# | C# | G# | 
|  | Yonder comes Miss | Rosie, Tell me, how do you | know? | 
|  | D#7 | G# | 
| I can tell it by her | apron And the dress she | wore. | 
|  | C# | G# | 
| Umbrella on her | shoulder, Piece of paper in her | hand. | 
|  | D#7 | G# | 
| She's a-sayin' to the | captain: "I want my lifetime | man!" | 
| Let the minight special ... |  | 
  
 
  6. The Rose
Amanda McBroom / Bette Midler: The Rose (1980)
|  | D | A | G | A | D | 
| Some say | love it is a | river that | drowns the ten | der | reed, | 
|  | D | A7 | G | A | D | 
| Some say | love it is a | razor that | leeds your | soul to | bleed. | 
|  | F#m | Bm7 | G | A7sus4 |  | A7 | 
| Some say | love it is a | hunger an | endless aching | need, |  |  | 
|  | A7 | D | A | G | A | D | 
|  | I say | love it is a | flower and | you it's | only | seed. | 
|  | D | A | G | A | D | 
| It's the | heart afraid of | breaking that | never | learns to | dance, | 
|  | A | G | A | D | 
| It's the dream afraid of | waking but | never | takes the | chance. | 
|  | F#m | Bm7 | G | A7sus4 |  | A7 | 
| It's the | one who won't be | taken who | cannot seem to | give, |  |  | 
|  | D | A | G | A | D | 
| And the | soul afraid of | dying that | never | learns to | live | 
|  | D | A | G | A | D | 
| When the | night has been too | lonely and the | road has | been too | long, | 
|  | D | A | G | A | D | 
| And you | think that love is | only for the | lucky | and the | strong. | 
|  | F#m | Bm7 | G | A7sus4 |  | A7 | 
| Just | remember in the | winter, far | beneath the bitter | snows, |  |  | 
|  | D | A | G | A | (n.c.) | D | 
| Lies the | seed that with the | sun's love in the | spring | bec | omes the | rose. | 
 
  7. Joanna
Jon Allen / Sweet Defeat (2011)
 
|  | G |  | C |  | G |  | C |  | G | C | 
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | From the dying arms of twilight, let's | run into the night. | 
|  | G | C | 
| Let's | fly like straight shot arrows across the | sky. | 
|  | G | C | 
| From the | ashes of an old life, let's | catch this newborn flame; | 
|  | G | C | 
|  | Hold it close and never let it | die. | 
|  | Am7 | D | G | C | 
|  | Go with me Jo | anna, | go with me in | time; | 
|  | Am | D | G | 
| A | pair of chancers | on an open | road. | 
|  | Am7 | D | G | C | 
|  | We'll train our feet to | follow the | footprints of our | dreams. | 
|  | Am | D | G | G |  | C |  | G |  | C | 
|  | Put your hand in | my hand and let's | go. |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
| Let's sail upon the evening, now the wind is getting high. |  | 
| Let's go outside and drink the air like wine. |  | 
| This time we'll make a clean break; there'll be no looking back. |  | 
| We'll leave these streets of sorrow far behind. |  | 
| Go with me Joanna, go with me in time; |  | 
| Let's get away before we get too old. |  | 
| We'll cut across the border, into unclaimed land. |  | 
| Put your hand in my hand and let's go. |  | 
  
|  | Em | C | D | Em | C | D | 
|  | Somewhere there's a | place to | be; | Where all we have is | all we | need. | 
|  | G | C | 
|  | Maybe there's a reason that | lies beyond these walls; | 
|  | G | C | 
|  | Maybe there's a meaning to be | found. | 
|  | G | (+bass) | C | 
| ' | Cause I | can't escape this feeling, this | vision in my mind, | 
|  | G | C | 
| Of the | day we put down roots in virgin | ground. | 
| Go with me Joanna, go with me in time; |  | 
| I'll take you where the wild flowers grow. |  | 
| We'll ride on through the darkness, and get there with the dawn; |  | 
| Put your hand in my hand  -  let's go. |  | 
  
  8. The Mighty Quinn
Bob Dylan/Bob Dylan: Self Portrait (1970)
Manfred Mann: Mighty Garvey! (1968)
|  | n.c. | G | 
|  | Come all without, come all within - You'll not see nothing like the Mighty Quinn |  | 
|  | G | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Come all without, | come all with | in - You'll not see n | othing like the | Mighty | Quinn | 
  
|  | G | C | G | C | 
|  | Ev'rybody's | building | ships and | boats | 
|  | G | C | G | C | 
|  | Some are building | monuments, | others jotting down | notes. | 
|  | G | C | G | C | 
|  | Ev'rybody's | in despair, | ev'ry girl and | boy | 
|  | G | D | C | G | 
| But when | Quinn the Eskimo | gets here, Ev'ry | body's gonna jump for | joy. | 
| Come all without, come all within - You'll not see nothing like the Mighty Quinn |  | 
  
|  | G | C | G | C | 
| I | like to do just | like the rest, I | like my sugar | sweet | 
|  | G | C | G | C | 
| But | jumping queues and | making haste, just | ain't my cup of | meat. | 
|  | G | C | G | C | 
|  | Ev'ryone's | beneath the trees, feeding | pigeons on a | limb | 
|  | G | D | C | G | 
| But when | Quinn the Eskimo | gets here, All the | pigeons gonna rum to | him. | 
| Come all without, come all within - You'll not see nothing like the Mighty Quinn |  | 
  
|  | |: | G | / | / | / | | C | / | / | / | | G | / | / | / | | C | / | / | / | | G | / | / | / | | C | / | / | / | :| | G | / | / | / | | D | / | / | / | | C | / | / | / | | G | / | / | / | | 
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | Oh, | 
| Come all without, come all within - You'll not see nothing like the Mighty Quinn |  | 
  
|  | G | C | G | C | 
|  | Let me do what I | wanna do, I | can recite 'em | all | 
|  | G | C | G | C | 
| Just | tell me where it | hurts and I'll | tell you who to | call. | 
|  | G | C | G | C | 
|  | Nobody can | get no sleep, there's | someone on ev'ryones | toes. | 
|  | G | D | C | G | 
| But when | Quinn the Eskimo | gets here, Ev'ry | body's gonna wanna | doze. | 
| Come all without, come all within - You'll not see nothing like the Mighty Quinn |  | 
|  | n.c. | G | 
|  | Come all without, come all within - You'll not see nothing like the Mighty | Quinn | 
  
 
________________ 2. Teil ________________
  9. Worried Man Blues
trad.
|  | G | G7 | 
| It | takes a worried man to | sing a worried song, | 
|  | C | G | 
| It | takes a worried man to sing a worried | song! | 
|  | G | G7 | 
| It | takes a worried man to | sing a worried song, | 
|  | Am | D7 | D | G | 
| I'm worried | now but I | won't be | worried | long | 
  
|  | G | G7 | 
| I | went across the river, and | I laid down to sleep. | 
|  | C | G | 
| I | went across the river, and I laid down to | sleep. | 
|  | G | G7 | 
| I | went across the river, and | I laid down to sleep. | 
|  | Am | D7 | D | G | 
| When I woke | up I had | shackles | on my | feet! | 
| It takes a worried man to sing a worried song - It takes ... |  | 
  
| Twenty-nine links of chain around my leg, |  | 
| I had, twenty-nine links of chain around my leg! |  | 
| Twenty-nine links of chain around my leg, |  | 
| And on each link An initial of my name! |  | 
| It takes a worried man to sing a worried song - It takes ... |  | 
  
| I asked the judge, What's gonna be my fine? |  | 
| I asked the judge, What's gonna be my fine? |  | 
| I asked the judge, What's gonna be my fine? |  | 
| "Twenty-one years On the Rocky Mountain line." |  | 
| It takes a worried man to sing a worried song - It takes ... |  | 
  
| The train pulled in, a sixteen coaches long. |  | 
| The train pulled in, a sixteen coaches long. |  | 
| The train pulled in, a sixteen coaches long. |  | 
| The girl I love, she's on that train and gone. |  | 
| It takes a worried man to sing a worried song - It takes ... |  | 
  
| I looked down the track, as far as I could see, |  | 
| I looked down the track, as far as I could see, |  | 
| I looked down the track, as far as I could see. |  | 
| Little Baby's hand was waving after me. |  | 
| It takes a worried man to sing a worried song - It takes ... |  | 
  
|  | Am | (n.c.) | G | 
| I'm worried | now but I | won't be worried | long! | 
 
 10. White Room
Jack Bruce, Pete Brown / Cream: Wheels of Fire (1968)
|  | Dm | C | Am | G | Dm | C | Am | G | Em | 
|  | Ah | Ah | Ah | Ah - | Ah A | h | Ah | Ah | Ah | 
|  | Am | C | D | F | - | G | Am | C |  | D | 
| In the | white room | with black | curtains |  |  | near the | stations. |  |  |  | 
|  | F | - | G | Am | C | D | F | - | G | Am | C |  | D | 
|  |  |  | Blackroof | country, | no gold | pavements | , |  | tired | starlings, |  |  |  | 
|  | F | - | G | Am | C | D | F | - | G | Am | C |  | D | 
|  |  |  | Silver | horses | run down | moonbeams |  |  | in your | dark eyes. |  |  |  | 
|  | F | - | G | Am | C | D | F | - | G | Am | C |  | D | 
|  |  |  | Dawnlight | smiles | on your | leaving | , |  | my con | tentment. |  |  |  | 
|  | F | G | D | F | E | 
|  | I'll | wait in this | place where the | sun never | shines. | 
|  | G | D | F | G | A | A | 
|  | Wait in this | place where the | shadows | run from them | selves. |  | 
  
| You said no strings could secure you at the stations. |  | 
| Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows. |  | 
| I walked into such a sad time at the station. |  | 
| As I walked out felt my own need just beginning. |  | 
| I'll wait in the queue when the trains come back. |  | 
| I'll wait for you where the shadows run from themselves. |  | 
  
|  | Dm | C | Am | G | Dm | C | Am | G | Em | 
|  | Ah | Ah | Ah | Ah - | Ah A | h | Ah | Ah | Ah | 
| At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd. |  | 
| Consolation from the old wound now forgotten. |  | 
| Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes. |  | 
| She's just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings. |  | 
| I'll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd, |  | 
| Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves. |  | 
  
|  | Dm | C | Am | G | Dm | C | Am | G | Em | Am | 
|  | Ah | Ah | Ah | Ah - | Ah | Ah | Ah | Ah | Ah | Ah | 
 
 11. I Shall Be Released
Bob Dylan / the Band: Music from Big Pink (1968)
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  | They say everything can be re | placed - | That every | distance | is not | near. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  | So I remember every | face - | Of every | man who | put me | here. | 
|  | |: |  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  |  | I | see my light come | shining - | From the | west un | to the | east. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | A | :| | 
|  | Any day now, | Any way now, | I   shall | be re | leased! |  | 
  
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  | They say every man needs pro | tection, | They say every | man must | rise and | fall. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  | Yet I swear I see my re | flection, | Placed so | high a | bove this | wall. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
| I | see my light come | shining - | From the | west un | to the | east. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | A | 
|  | Any day now, | Any way now, | I   shall | be re | leased! | 
|  | |: |  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  |  | I | see my light come | shining - | From the | west un | to the | east. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | A | :| | 
|  | Any day now, | Any way now, | I   shall | be re | leased! |  | 
  
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  | Right here next to me in this | lonely crowd, | There's a | man who | swears he's not to | blame. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  | All day long I hear him | cry so loud, | Callin' | out that | he's been | framed. | 
|  | |: |  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | E | A | 
|  |  | I | see my light come | shining - | From the | west un | to the | east. | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | A | :| | 
|  | Any day now, | Any way now, | I   shall | be re | leased! |  | 
|  | A | Bm | C#m | Bm | A | 
|  | Any day now, | Any way now, | I   shall | be re | leased! | 
  
 
 12. Hurt
Trent Reznor / Nine Inch Nails: The Downward Spiral (1994); Johnny Cash (2002)
|  | Bm |  | D | E | Bm | D | E | Bm | 
|  |  | I | hurt my | self to | day - to | see if | I still | feel. | 
|  | D | E | Bm | D | E | Bm | 
| I | focus | on the | pain - the | only | thing that's | real. | 
|  | D | E | Bm | D | E | Bm | 
| The | needle | tears a | hole - the | old fa | miliar | sting. | 
|  | D | E | Bm | D | E | A | Bm | 
| Try to | kill it | all a | way - but I re | member | every | thing | ! | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | What have I be | come - | my sweetest | friend? | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | Everyone I | know - goes a | way in the | end! | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | And you could have it | all - | my empire of | dirt. | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | D | 
|  | I will let you | down - | I will make you | hurt | ! | 
  
|  | D | E | Bm | D | E | Bm | 
|  | I wear this | crown of | thorns - u | pon my | liars | chair | 
|  | D | E | Bm | D | E | Bm | 
|  | Full of | broken | thoughts - | I can | not re | pair | 
|  | D | E | Bm | D | E | Bm | 
| Be | neath the | stains of | time - the | feelings | disap | pear | 
|  | D | E | Bm | D | E | A | Bm | 
|  | You are | someone | else - | I am | still right | here | . | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | What have I be | come - | my sweetest | friend? | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | Everyone I | know - goes a | way in the | end! | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | And you could have it | all - | my empire of | dirt. | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | I will let you | down - | I will make you | hurt! | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | If I could start a | gain - | A million miles a | way | 
|  | Bm | G | D | A | 
|  | I would keep my | self - | I would find a | way | 
  
 
 13. From Hank to Hendrix
Neil Young / Neil Young: Harvest Moon (1992)
|  | G | Bm | C | Am | 
|  | From Hank to | Hendrix, I | walked these streets with | you. | 
|  | Em | G | C | Am | 
|  | Here I am with this | old guitar, | doing what I | do. | 
|  | G | Bm | C | Am | 
|  | I always ex | pected that | you would see me | through. | 
|  | Em | G | C | Am | G | 
|  | I never believed in | much, but | I believed in | you. |  | 
|  | F | C | G | 
|  | Can we get it together, can we | still stand side by | side. | 
|  | F | C | G | 
|  | Can we make it last, | like a musical | ride? | 
  
|  | G | Bm | C | Am | 
|  | From Marilyn to | Madonna, I | always loved  your | smile, | 
|  | Em | G | C | Am | 
|  | Now we're headed for the | big divorce, | California | style. | 
|  | G | Bm | C | Am | 
|  | I found myself | singin' | like a long lost | friend | 
|  | Em | G | C | Am | G | 
|  | The same thing that | makes you live can | kill you in the | end. |  | 
|  | F | C | G | 
|  | Can we get it together, can we | still stand side by | side. | 
|  | F | C | G | 
|  | Can we make it last, | like a musical | ride? | 
  
|  | harp solo: | G | Bm |  | C |  | Am |  | Em |  | G |  | C |  | Am | 
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | G | Bm | C | Am | 
|  | Sometimes it's dis | torted | not clear to | you. | 
|  | Em | G | C | Am | 
|  | Sometimes the | beauty of love just | comes ringin' | through. | 
|  | G | Bm | C | Am | 
|  | New glass in the | window, | new leaf on the | tree, | 
|  | Em | G | C | Am | G | 
|  | new distance | between us | you and | me. |  | 
|  | F | C | G | 
|  | Can we get it together, can we | still stand side by | side. | 
|  | F | C | G | 
|  | Can we make it last, | like a musical | ride? | 
  
 
 14. Death of a Clown
Ray Davies, Dave Davies / the Kinks: Something Else by the Kinks (1967)
|  | D | A | A7 | 
| My | makeup is dry and it | cracks on my | chin | 
|  | G | D | A | 
| I'm | drowning my sorrows in | whiskey and | gin | 
|  | D | A | A7 | 
| The | lion tamer's whip doesn't | crack any | more | 
|  | G | D | A | 
| The | lions they won't bite and the | tigers won't | roar | 
|  | G | Em | C | F | Em | D | A | 
|  | La la la | La la la | La la la | La - So | let's all drink to the | death of a | clown | 
|  | D | A | A7 | G | D | A | 
|  | Won't someone help me to | break up this | crown - | Let's all drink to the | death of a | clown | 
|  | G | Em | C | F | Em | D | A | 
|  | La la la | La la la | La la la | La - | Let's all drink to the | death of a | clown | 
  
|  | D | A | A7 | 
| The | old fortune teller | lies dead on the | floor | 
|  | G | D | A | 
|  | Nobody needs fortunes | told any | more | 
|  | D | A | A7 | 
| The | trainer of insects is | crouched on his | knees | 
|  | G | D | A | 
| And | frantically looking for | runaway | fleas | 
|  | G | Em | C | F | Em | D | A | 
|  | La la la | La la la | La la la | La - So | let's all drink to the | death of a | clown | 
|  | D | A | A7 | G | D | A | 
|  | Won't someone help me to | break up this | crown - | Let's all drink to the | death of a | clown | 
|  | G | Em | C | F | Em | D | A | 
|  | La la la | La la la | La la la | La - | Let's all drink to the | death of a | clown | 
  
|  | D | A | A7 | 
|  | La la la la la la | la la la | la | 
|  | G | D | A | 
|  | La la la la la la | la la la | la | 
|  | G | Em | C | F | G | D | A | 
|  | La la la | La la la | La la la | La - | let's all drink to the | death of a | clown | 
 
 15. Roll in My Sweet Baby's Arms
trad.
|  | G | D | 
|  | Roll in my sweet baby's arms, Roll in my sweet baby's | arms! | 
|  | G | C | 
| Gonna | lay 'round this shack till the | mail train comes back, | 
|  | D | G | 
| And | roll in my sweet baby's | arms! | 
  
|  | G | D | 
| I | ain't gonna work on the railroad, Ain't gonna work on the | farm. | 
|  | G | C | 
| Gonna | lay 'round this shack 'til the | mail train comes back | 
|  | D | G | 
| And | roll in my sweet baby's | arms! | 
| Roll in my sweet baby's arms, Roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
| Gonna lay 'round this shack till the mail train comes back, |  | 
| And roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
  
| Where were you last Friday night - While I was lying in jail? |  | 
| Walking the street with another man, Wouldn't even go my bail! |  | 
| Roll in my sweet baby's arms, Roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
| Gonna lay 'round this shack till the mail train comes back, |  | 
| And roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
  
| I know your parents don't like me - They turn me away from your door. |  | 
| If I had my life to live over - I wouldn't go there no more! |  | 
| Roll in my sweet baby's arms, Roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
| Gonna lay 'round this shack till the mail train comes back, |  | 
| And roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
  
| Mama was a beauty operator, Sister could weave and spin. |  | 
| Daddy's got an interest in an old cotton mill - Watch that money roll in. |  | 
| Roll in my sweet baby's arms, Roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
| Gonna lay 'round this shack till the mail train comes back, |  | 
| And roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
  
| Sometimes there's a change in the ocean, Sometimes there's a change in the sea. |  | 
| Sometimes there's a change in my own true love - But there'll never be a change in me. |  | 
| Roll in my sweet baby's arms, Roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
| Gonna lay 'round this shack till the mail train comes back, |  | 
| And roll in my sweet baby's arms! |  | 
  
 
________________ 3. Teil ________________
 16. Feelin' Groovy
Paul Simon
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
|  | Slow | down, you | move too | fast. | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
|  | You got to | make the | morning | last. | 
|  |  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
| Just - |  | Kickin' | down the | cobble | stones, | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C |  | F |  | C/E |  | Csus2 |  | C | 
|  | Lookin' for | fun and | feelin' | groovy. |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C |  | F |  | C/E |  | Csus2 |  | C | 
| Ba-Da-Da | Da-Da | Da-Da - | Feelin' | groovy |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
|  | Hello | lamppost, | what' you | knowin'. | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
|  | I've come to | watch your | flowers | growing. | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
|  | Ain't you | got no | rhymes | for me? | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C |  | F |  | C/E |  | Csus2 |  | C | 
|  | Do-od | Doo-Doo - | Feelin' | groovy |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C |  | F |  | C/E |  | Csus2 |  | C | 
| Ba-Da-Da | Ba-Da | Da-Da - | Feelin' | groovy |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
| I got | no deeds to | do, no | promises to | keep. | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
| I'm | dappled and | drowsy and | ready to | sleep. | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
| Let the | morning time | drop all it's | petals on | me. | 
|  | F | C/E | Csus2 | C | 
|  | Life, I | love you. | All is | groovy. | 
| Ba-Da- Da-Da Ba-Da Da-Da... |  | 
  
 
  F   D/E Csus2 C | F   D/E Csus2 C |
G-----------------|-----------------|
D-------------5---|------7------5---|
A-8----7----5---3>s>8----7----5---3>s
E-----------------|-----------------|
 
 
 17. Slip Slidin' Away
Paul Simon (1977)
|  | A | F#m | 
| Slip sliding a | way, slip sliding a | way | 
|  | A | E | D | E | A | 
| You know the | near your desti | nation, the | more you slip | sliding a | way | 
  
|  | F#m | A | 
| Whoah and I know a | man, he came from my | hometown. | 
|  | D | E | D | D7 | 
| He wore his | passion for his | woman like a thorny | crown. |  | 
|  | A | F#m | 
| He said | Dolores, I live in | fear. | 
|  | A | E | D | E | A | 
| My love for | you's so over | powering, I'm | afraid that I | will dis | appear. | 
|  | A | F#m | 
| Slip sliding a | way, slip sliding a | way! | 
|  | A | E | D | E | A | 
| You know the | near your desti | nation, the | more you slip | sliding a | way. | 
  
| I know a woman, (who) became a wife; |  | 
| These are the very words she uses to describe her life. |  | 
| She said a good day ain't got no rain |  | 
| She said a bad day is when I lie in the bed; And I think of things that might have been |  | 
| Slip sliding away, slip sliding away. |  | 
| You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away. |  | 
  
| And I know a father who had a son. |  | 
| He longed to tell him all the reasons for the things he'd done. |  | 
| He came a long way just to explain; |  | 
| He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping, Then he turned around and he headed home again |  | 
| Slip sliding away, slip sliding away. |  | 
| You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away. |  | 
| Slip sliding away, slip sliding away. |  | 
| You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away. |  | 
  
| Whoah God only knows, God makes his plan. |  | 
| The information's unavailable to the mortal man. |  | 
| We're workin' our jobs, collect our pay. |  | 
| Believe we're gliding down the highway, when in fact we're slip sliding away. |  | 
| Slip sliding away, slip sliding away. |  | 
| You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away. |  | 
| Slip sliding away, slip sliding away. |  | 
| You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away. |  | 
  
 
 18. The Highwayman
Jimmy Webb / the Highwaymen (J. Cash et.al.): Highwayman (1985)
|  | C#m | B | / | / | A | / | / | / | C#m7 | / / / | B | / | A | / | B | / / / | 
|  | I was a | highway | man | , | a | long the | coach roads | I did | ride, |  | Sword | and | pistol | by my | side, |  | 
|  | F#m | / | C#m | / | B | / | A | / / / | 
|  | Many | a | young maid | lost her | baubles | to my | trade, |  | 
|  | F#m | / | C#m | / | B | / | A | / / / | 
|  | Many | a | soldier | shed his | lifeblood | on my | blade, |  | 
|  | C#m |  | / | B | / | A | B | E | / | / / |  | / | / | B | / / / | | / / / / | 
|  |  | The | basterds | hung me | in the | spring of | twenty- | five, |  | But | I am | still a | live... |  |  | 
|  | C#m | B | A | C#m7 | B | A | B | 
|  | I was a | sailor, I was | born upon the | tide, | With the | sea I did a | bide, | 
|  | F#m | C#m | B | A | 
|  | I sailed a | schooner round the | horn of Mexi | co, | 
|  | F#m | C#m | B | A | 
|  | I went a | loft and furled the | main sail in a | blow, | 
|  | C#m |  | B | A | C#m | E | B | 
|  |  | And when the | yards broke off they | said that | I've got | killed, But I am living | still... | 
|  | C#m | B | A | C#m7 | B | A | B | 
|  | I was a | dam builder, | across the river deep and | wide, | Where steel and | water did col | lide, | 
|  | F#m | C#m | B | A | 
|  | A place called | Boulder on the | wild Colora | do, | 
|  | F#m | C#m | B | A | 
|  | I slipped and | fell into the | wet concrete be | low, | 
|  | C#m |  | B | A | C#m | E | B | 
|  |  | They buried | me in that gray | tomb that | knows no | sounds, But I am still a | round... | 
|  | B |  | E | E/D# | C#m7 | B | A | E/G# | F#m | / / / | A | B | E | 
|  |  | I'll always be a | round, and a | round, and a | round, and a | round, and a | round |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
|  | C#m | B | A | C#m7 | B | A | B | 
|  | I'll fly a | starship ' | cross the universe di | vide, | And when I | reach the other | side, | 
|  | F#m | C#m | B | A | 
|  | I'll find a | place to rest my | spirit if I | can, | 
|  | F#m | C#m | B | A | 
|  | Perhaps I | may become a | highwayman a | gain, | 
|  | C#m |  | B | A | C#m | E | B | 
|  |  | Or I may | simply be a | single | drop of | rain, But I will re | main... | 
|  | B |  | E | E/D# | C#m7 | B | A | E/G# | F#m | / / / | A | B | E | 
|  |  | And I'll be back a | gain, and a | gain, and a | gain, and a | gain, and a | gain |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
 
 19. Knockin' on Heaven's Door
Bob Dylan
|  | |: |  | G | D | Am7 |  |  | G | D | C |  | :| | 
|  |  |  | Oooh | Oooh | Oooh | - |  | Oooh | Oooh | Oooh |  |  | 
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | Mama take this | badge off of | me, | 
|  | G | D | C | 
|  | I can't | use it any | more. | 
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | It's getting | dark, too dark for me to | see; | 
|  | G | D | C | D | 
|  | I feel I'm | knockin' on heaven's | door. |  | 
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. | 
|  | G | D | C | D | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. |  | 
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. | 
|  | G | D | C | D | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. |  | 
  
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | Mama, put my | guns in the | ground. | 
|  | G | D | C | 
|  | I can't | shoot them any | more. | 
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | That long black | cloud is comin' | down. | 
|  | G | D | C | D | 
|  | I feel I'm | knockin' on heaven's | door. |  | 
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. | 
|  | G | D | C | D | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. |  | 
|  | G | D | Am7 | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. | 
|  | G | D | C | D | 
|  | Knock, knock, | knockin' on heaven's | door. |  | 
  
|  | G | D | Am7 | G | D | C | 
|  | Ooh - | ooh - | ooh - ooh | Ooh - | ooh - | ooh ... | 
 
  G / / /   D / / /   Am7 / /  /   G / / /   D / / /   C  /  /  D
G-0---0-0-|---------|------------|-0---0-0-|---------|-------------|
D---------|-0---0-0-|------------|---------|-0---0-0-|----------0--|
A---------|---------|-0----2-3-2-|---------|---------|-3--2--0-----|
E---------|---------|------------|---------|---------|-------------|
 
 
 20. The Spanish Lady
Paddy Reilly
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | As I went down to | Dublin City | At the | hour of | twelve at | night; | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | Who  should  I  see  but a | Spanish Lady, | Washing her | feet by | candle | light | 
|  | F# | C#7 | F# | C#7 | 
|  | First she washed them, | then she dried them | Over a fire of | amber coals | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
| In | all my life I | never did see a | maid so | sweet a | bout the | soul! | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | Whack for the Toora | Loora Laddy - | Whack for the | Toora | Loora | Lay! | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | C# | F# | 
|  | Whack for the Toora | Loora Laddy - | Whack for the | Toora | Loora | Lay! | 
  
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | As I came back through | Dublin city | at the | hour of | half past | eight; | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | Who should I see but the | Spanish lady, | brushing her | hair in | broad day | light | 
|  | F# | C#7 | F# | C#7 | 
|  | First she tossed it, | then she combed it | on her lap  was a | silver comb | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | In all my life I | never did see a | maid so | fair since | I did | roam! | 
| Whack for the Toora Loora Laddy - Whack for the Toora Loora Lay... |  | 
  
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | As I went back through | Dublin city | as the | sun be | gan to | set; | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | Who should I see but the | Spanish lady, | catching a | moth in a | golden | net! | 
|  | F# | C#7 | F# | C#7 | 
|  | When she saw me | then she fled me | lifting her pettycoat | over her knee | 
|  | F# | D#m | B | F# | G#m | C# | 
|  | In all my life I | never did see a | maid so | shy as the | Spanish La | dy! | 
| Whack for the Toora Loora Laddy - Whack for the Toora Loora Lay... |  | 
  
| As I was leaving Dublin city On that morning sad of heart; |  | 
| Lonely was I for the Spanish lady, Now that forever we must part! |  | 
| But still I always will remember All the hours we did enjoy |  | 
| But then she left me sad at parting Gone forever was my joy! |  | 
| Whack for the Toora Loora Laddy - Whack for the Toora Loora Lay... |  | 
  
 
 21. Wagon Wheel
Bob Dylan, Ketcham Secor / Old Crow Medicine Show: Old Crow Medicine Show (2004)
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
|  | Headed down south to the | land of the pines, And I'm | thumbin' my way into | North Caroline. | 
|  | A | E | D | 
|  | Starin' up the road - And pray to | God I see | headlights. | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
| I | made it down the coast in | seventeen hours, | Pickin' me a bouquet of | dogwood flowers, | 
|  | A | E | D | 
| And I'm a | hopin' for Raleigh - I can | see my baby to | night. | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | A | E | D | 
| So | rock me mama like a | wagon wheel; | Rock me mama any | way you feel - | Hey, | mama | rock me! | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
|  | Rock me mama like the | wind and the rain; | Rock me mama like a | south-bound train - | 
|  | A | E | D | A | E | F#m | D | A | E | D | 
|  | Hey, | mama | rock me! |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
|  | Runnin' from the cold | up in New England I was | born to be a fiddler in an | old-time stringband. | 
|  | A | E | D | 
| My | baby plays the guitar - | I pick a banjo | now. | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
| Oh, the | North country winters keep a | gettin' me now, Lost my | money playin' poker so I | had to up and leave. | 
|  | A | E | D | 
| But I | ain't a turnin' back - To | livin' that old life | no more! | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | A | E | D | 
| So | rock me mama like a | wagon wheel; | Rock me mama any | way you feel - | Hey, | mama | rock me! | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
|  | Rock me mama like the | wind and the rain; | Rock me mama like a | south-bound train - | 
|  | A | E | D | |: | A | E | F#m | D | A | E | D | :| | 
|  | Hey, | mama | rock me! |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
|  | Walkin' to the south | out of Roanoke - I caught a | trucker out of Philly. Had a | nice long talk. | 
|  | A | E | D | 
| But | he's a headed west from the | Cumberland Gap - To | Johnson City, Tennessee | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | 
| And I | gotta get a move on | before the sun, I hear my | baby callin' my name and I | know that she's the only one. | 
|  | A | E | D | 
| And | if I die in Raleigh - At | least I will die | free! | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | A | E | D | 
| So | rock me mama like a | wagon wheel; | Rock me mama any | way you feel - | Hey, | mama | rock me! | 
|  | A | E | F#m | D | A | E | D | A | 
|  | Rock me mama like the | wind and the rain; | Rock me mama like a | south-bound train - | Hey, | mama | rock me! |  | 
  
 
Bass A / / / | E / / / | F#m / / | D / / + / | A / / / | E / / / | D / / + / | D / / + / |
  G|---------|---------|---------|-----------|---------|---------|-----------|-----------|
  D|-----2---|-----2---|-----4---|-0---------|-----2---|-----2---|-0---------|-0---------|
  A|-0-------|-2-------|-4-------|---2-0-0-2-|-0-------|-2-------|---2-0-0-2-|---2-0-0-2-|
  E|---------|---------|---------|-----------|---------|---------|-----------|-----------|
 22. Copper Kettle
Albert Frank Beddoe / Bob Dylan: Self Portrait (1970)
|  | G | Am7 | G | Am7 |  | G | Am7 | G |  | Am7 | 
|  | Get you a | copper | kettle, |  |  | get you a | copper | coil, |  |  | 
|  | G | Am7 | G |  | Am7 |  | C | Cmaj7 | Am | 
|  | Fill it with | new-made | corn mash |  |  | and | never | more you'll | toil. | 
|  | C | G | C | G | 
| You'll just | lay there by the | juniper, | while the moon is | bright, | 
|  | C | Cmaj7 | Am | Am7 | G |  | Am7 |  | G |  | Am7 |  | G | 
|  | Watch them | jugs a- | filling - in the | pale  moon | light. |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
|  | G | Am7 | G | Am7 |  | G | Am7 | G |  | Am7 | 
|  | Build you a | fire with | hickory, |  |  | hickory, | ash and | oak, |  |  | 
|  | G | Am7 | G | Am7 |  | C | Cmaj7 | Am | 
|  | Don't use no | green or | rotten wood; |  | they'll | get you | by the | smoke. | 
|  | C | G | C | G | 
| We just | lay there by the | juniper, | while the moon is | bright, | 
|  | C | Cmaj7 | Am | Am7 | G |  | Am7 |  | G |  | Am7 |  | G | 
|  | Watch them | jugs a- | filling - in the | pale  moon | light. |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
|  | G | Am7 | G | Am7 |  | G | Am7 | G |  | Am7 | 
| My | daddy, | he made | whiskey; |  |  | my granddaddy, | he did | too. |  |  | 
|  | G | Am7 | G | Am7 | C | Cmaj7 | Am | 
|  | We ain't | paid no | whiskey | tax since | seventeen- | ninety- | two. | 
|  | C | G | C | G | 
| We just | lay there by the | juniper, | while the moon is | bright, | 
|  | C | Cmaj7 | Am | Am7 | G | 
|  | Watch them | jugs a- | filling - in the | pale  moon | light, | 
|  | Am7 | G |  | Am7 |  | G |  | Am7 |  | G | ... | 
| In the | pale moon | light. |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
 
________________ Zugaben ________________
 23. Bad Moon Rising
John Fogerty/Creedence Clearwater Revival: Green River (1969)
|  | |: | F# | C# | B | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | :| | 
|  |  | // / | / | / | // | / | / | / | / | / |  | 
|  | F# | C# | B | F# | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | 
|  | I see a | bad | moon a- | risin'. |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | F# | C# | B | F# | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | 
|  | I see | trouble's | on the | way. |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | F# | C# | B | F# | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | 
|  | I see | earth | quakes and | lightnin'. |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | F# | C# | B | F# | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | 
|  | I see | bad | times | today. |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | B | F# | 
|  | Don't go round tonight, it's | bound to take your life, | 
|  | C# | B | F# | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | 
|  | There's a | bad moon on the | rise! |  |  |  |  |  | 
  
| I hear hurricanes a blowin' |  | 
| I know the end is comin' soon. |  | 
| I feel the river's overflowin' |  | 
| I hear the voice of rage and ruin. |  | 
| Don't go round tonight, it's bound to take your life, |  | 
| There's a bad moon on the rise! |  | 
  
|  | Solo: | |: | F# | C# | B | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | :| | 
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
|  | B | F# | C# | B | F# | F#6 | F# | F#6 | F# | Intro riff | 
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  | 
| Hope you got your things together. |  | 
| Hope you're quite well prepared to die. |  | 
| Looks like we're in for nasty weather. |  | 
| One eye is taken for an eye. |  | 
| Don't go round tonight, it's bound to take your life, |  | 
| There's a bad moon on the rise! |  | 
|  | B | F# | 
|  | Don't go round tonight, it's | bound to take your life, | 
|  | C# | B | F# | C# | B | F# | (Intro Riff) | 
|  | There's a | bad moon on the | rise! |  |  |  |  | 
  
 
G--------------------------|
D--4--4--------4--4--2--4--|
A--------4--2--------------|
E--------------------------|
 
 
 24. Get Back
Lennon & McCartney / the Beatles: Let it Be (1970)
|  | Intro: |  | D | D | C | G |  | 
|  |  | | : | /   /   /   /  | | /   / | / | /   : | |  | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Jojo was a man who thought he was a loner, | But he knew it couldn't | last. |  |  | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Jojo left his home in Tuscon, Arizona | For some California | grass. |  |  | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Get back, get back! Get | back to where you once be | longed |  |  | 
|  | D | G | C | G | 
|  | Get back,  get back! Get | back to where you once belonged |  |  | 
  
|  | Bass Solo: |  | D | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  |  | | : | /   /   /   | | /   /   /  | | /   /   /  | | /   / | / | /   : | | 
G|------------9-7-9/10-9/7-| 
D|---4-5/9-10--------------|
A|-5-----------------------|
E|-------------------------|
 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Get back, get back! Get | back to where you once be | longed |  |  | 
|  | D | G | C | G | 
|  | Get back,  get back! Get | back to where you once belonged |  |  | 
  
|  | Flute Solo: |  | D | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  |  | | : | /   /   /   | | /   /   /  | | /   /   /  | | /   / | / | /   : | | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Sweet Loretta Martin thought she was a woman, | But she was another | man. |  |  | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | All the girls around her said she's got it comin', | But she gets it while she | can. |  |  | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Get back, get back! Get | back to where you once be | longed |  |  | 
|  | D | G | C | G | 
|  | Get back,  get back! Get | back to where you once belonged |  |  | 
  
|  | Guitar Solo: |  | D | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  |  | | : | /   /   /   | | /   /   /  | | /   /   /  | | /   / | / | /   : | | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Jojo was a man who thought he was a loner, | But he knew it couldn't | last. |  |  | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Jojo left his home in Tuscon, Arizona | For some California | grass. |  |  | 
|  | D | G | D | C | G | 
|  | Get back, get back! Get | back to where you once be | longed |  |  | 
|  | D | G | C | G | 
|  | Get back,  get back! Get | back to where you once belonged |  |  | 
  
 
| All Along The Watchtower | 3 | 
| Bad Moon Rising | 23 | 
| Copper Kettle | 22 | 
| Death of a Clown | 14 | 
| Feelin' Groovy | 16 | 
| From Hank to Hendrix | 13 | 
| Get Back | 24 | 
| Heart of Gold | 4 | 
| Horse With No Name | 1 | 
| Hurt | 12 | 
| I Shall Be Released | 11 | 
| It never rains in Southern California | 2 | 
| Joanna | 7 | 
| Knockin' on Heaven's Door | 19 | 
| Midnight Special | 5 | 
| Roll in My Sweet Baby's Arms | 15 | 
| Slip Slidin' Away | 17 | 
| The Highwayman | 18 | 
| The Mighty Quinn | 8 | 
| The Rose | 6 | 
| The Spanish Lady | 20 | 
| Wagon Wheel | 21 | 
| White Room | 10 | 
| Worried Man Blues | 9 | 
 
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