| A | |
| My daddy left home when I was three |
| D | |
| And he didn't leave much to ma and me |
| E | A | |
| Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of | booze. |
| A | |
| Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid |
| D | |
| But the meanest thing that he ever did |
| E | A | |
| Was before he left, he went and named me " | Sue." |
| A | |
| Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke |
| D | |
| And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk, |
| E | A | |
| It seems I had to fight my whole life | through. |
| A | |
| Some gal would giggle and I'd get red |
| D | |
| And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head, |
| E | A | |
| I tell ya, | life ain't easy for a boy named " | Sue." |
| A | |
| Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean, |
| D | |
| My fist got hard and my wits got keen, |
| E | A | |
| I'd roam from town to town to hide my | shame. |
| A | |
| But I made a vow to the moon and stars |
| D | |
| That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars |
| E | A | |
| And kill that man who gave me that awful | name. |
| A | |
| Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July |
| D | |
| And I just hit town and my throat was dry, |
| E | A | |
| I thought I'd stop and have myself a | brew. |
| A | |
| At an old saloon on a street of mud, |
| D | |
| There at a table, dealing stud, |
| E | A | |
| Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me " | Sue." |
| A | |
| Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad |
| D | |
| From a worn-out picture that my mother'd had, |
| E | A | |
| And I knew that scar on his cheek and his | evil eye. |
| A | |
| He was big and bent and gray and old, |
| D | |
| And I looked at him and my blood ran cold |
| E | A | |
| And I said: "My name is 'Sue!' | How do you do! |
| Now you gonna die!!" |
| A | |
| Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes |
| D | |
| And he went down, but to my surprise, |
| E | A | |
| He come up with a knife and cut off a | piece of my ear. |
| A | |
| But I busted a chair right across his teeth |
| D | |
| And we crashed through the wall and into the street |
| E | A | |
| Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and | the beer. |
| A | |
| I tell ya, I've fought tougher men |
| D | |
| But I really can't remember when, |
| E | A | |
| He kicked like a mule and he bit like a | crocodile. |
| A | |
| I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss, |
| D | |
| He went for his gun and I pulled mine first, |
| E | A | |
| He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him | smile. |
| A | |
| And he said: "Son, this world is rough |
| D | |
| And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough |
| E | A | |
| And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya | along. |
| A | |
| So I give ya that name and I said goodbye |
| D | |
| I knew you'd have to get tough or die |
| E | A | |
| And it's the name that helped to make you | strong." |
| A | |
| He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight |
| D | |
| And I know you hate me, and you got the right |
| E | A | |
| To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you | do. |
| A | |
| But ya ought to thank me, before I die, |
| D | |
| For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye |
| E | A | |
| Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you " | Sue.'" |
| A | |
| I got all choked up and I threw down my gun |
| D | |
| And I called him my pa, and he called me his son, |
| E | A | |
| And I came away with a different point of | view. |
| A | |
| And I think about him, now and then, |
| D | |
| Every time I try and every time I win, |
| (No Chords) |
| And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him |
| A (keep strumming) |
| Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name! |