Tonart: Db major
Verse 1
C
F
G
C
All day
on the
F
prairie in the saddle I ride
C
G
Not even a dog hoist to trot by my side
Am
with chips gathered round
C
G
And boil my own coffee
F
I wash in the pool and I sleep on a sack,
G
I carry my wardrobe on my
C
F
G
C
back.
For want of an oven
C
G
And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.
Am
my floor is the grass,
G
My music is the lowing of
My books are the brooks,
C
F
G
C
on his pulpit of bones.
And then if my cooking's
C
G
You can't blame me for wanting to eat
Am
who sleeps more profound
G
Than the big puncher boy
C
who sleeps on the ground
My books teach me ever
G
My sermons, that small things
C
F
G
F
C
I should not despise.
My parson remarks from
C
That fortune favors those who
G
look out for their own.
Am
lies a gulf very wide,
G
C
Some lucky fellow may call her his bride.
F
My friends gently hint I am coming to grief,
G
But men must make money,
C
F
G
C
and women have beef.
But why, it is I can ne 'er
F
C
understand,
For each of the patriarchs
C
Am
Abraham emigrated in search of a range
F
Old Isaac owned cattle in charge of Esau
C
for his father -in -law
Outro 1
C
F
F
G
G
C
Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteC F G Am
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