| C | |
| He had a Blue Wing tattooed on his shoulder. Well it might have been a |
| Dm | |
| blue bird I don't | know. |
| G | |
| But he'd get stone drunk and talk about Alaska. Salmon boats and forty- |
| C | |
| five b | elow |
| C | |
| He said he got that Blue Wing up in Walla Walla. Where his cellmate there |
| Dm | |
| was a little W | illy John |
| Dm | G | |
| Willy he was once a great blues singer. And W | ing and Willy wrote him up a |
| C | |
| s | ong: |
| CHORUS |
| C | F | C | |
| He said its dark in here can't see the | sky. But I | look at this Blue Wing |
| G | |
| and I cl | ose my eyes |
| C | F | C | |
| Then I fly away, beyond these | walls Up above the | clouds, where the rain |
| G | |
| don't | fall |
| Am | G | Am | G | |
| On a poor man | 's dreams (y | aa, On a poor m | an's dreams, y | aa) |
| C | |
| Well they paroled Blue Wing in August, 1963 |
| C | Dm | |
| And he moved on pickin' apples to the town of W | enatchee. |
| Dm | |
| Winter finally caught him in a run down trailer park, |
| Dm | G | C | |
| On the sou | th side of Seattle where the d | ays grow gray and dark |
| C | |
| And he drank and he dreamt a vision of when the salmon still swam free |
| C | Dm | |
| And his father's father's crossed that w | ide old Bering Sea. |
| Dm | |
| And the land belonged to everyone, and there were old songs left to sing. |
| Dm | G | C | |
| Now it's nar | rowed down to a cheap hotel and a tatt | ooed prison wing. |
| Chorus |
| C | |
| Well he drank his way to L.A. and that's where he died. But no one knew his Christian name |
| C | Dm | |
| And there was no one there to | cry. But I dreamt there was a service. |
| Dm | |
| A | preacher and an old pine box. |
| Dm | G | C | |
| And hal | fway through the sermon you know Blue | Wing began to talk |
| Chorus |