调:C major
Verse 1
Eb
Ab
Eb
Woman don't cry and ask me why my
Bb
Eb
fingers always itch to play the fiddle
Or why it seems I sometimes
I'm just a mortal man
and I don't know the answer to
Bb
Eb
And pull the horse hair like I used to do
why the good Lord
The rods and the rope on my fiddle
Cm
Eb
Bb
Eb
Don't ask me how I make my fiddles,
Bb
Eb
sigh or cry or sing at my own bidding
Don't
When I am laid beneath the sun,
I hope God lets me take
Bb
Eb
but I never cared much for that melody
why the poor blood
Ab
Eb
You might as well be talking to the rosin
and why gods sometimes paint
To bless me with my devil's
Eb
Bb
Eb
jubble
Don't try to reach inside
my mind and quench
Don't waste your mind
wonderin' why I stir
Just be content to lather
Spending memories of the joy
ain't strong enough
Bb
Eb
To break the horsehair on my fiddle bow
why the good Lord
Ab
Eb
You might as well be talking to the rosin
and why gods sometimes paint
why the good Lord
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调音器E A D G B E
和弦Eb Ab Bb Cm
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