| C | |
| Old Man Johnson got his head in his hand |
| Makin' his way across state in a fiddlin' band |
| Am | |
| With his hair a | ll down in his eyes |
| C | |
| And the microphone | all covered with flies. |
| When he gets done playin' goes back to his room |
| Climbs into bed in his cowboy boots |
| Am | |
| And he picks up | a magazine turns on the TV |
| C | |
| Lights a cigar as he's fallin' asleep. |
| F | C | Am | |
| Well he's only a p | erson...w | ho doesn' | t know shit. |
| F C Am(let ring) |
| Yeah nothing happenin'...that's about it. |
| C | |
| Yeah...... |
| C | |
| Well, little Rosanna came from Texarkana |
| Had fourteen dollars wrapped in a bandana. |
| Am | |
| Came into town not lookin' for much |
| C | |
| Well she found a h | ound dog and she named him "Dutch." |
| She got a job at the arcade takin' quarters |
| But she was never too good at takin' orders |
| Am | |
| So one nigh | t she stopped givin' out change |
| C | |
| She kick | ed the boss in the chin and unplugged the games. |
| F | C | Am | |
| She's onl | y a person...wh | o doesn' | t know shit. |
| F C Am(let ring) |
| Nothin' happenin'...That's about it. |
| C | |
| Ooh, ooh. Yeah, yeah, yeah. |
| C | |
| Sam got canned at the cannery |
| He punched out the clock that night. |
| Am | |
| His | knuckle was bleeding as he walked home, |
| C | |
| He was cold | and he had a headache. |
| Well his wife was cookin' canned beans, |
| He took out all the money out of his jeans |
| Am | |
| And he set it | on fire in the kitchen sink |
| C | |
| As his wife | handed him a drink. |
| F | C | Am | |
| He was o | nly a person...who | didn't | know shit. |
| F C Am(let ring) |
| Nothin' happenin'...that's about it. |
| C | |
| Uh, yeah | , oh. Wooh, ooh, ooh, ooh... |
| C | |
| Smiley was lookin' for handouts |
| sleepin' in a abandoned lighthouse. |
| Am | |
| Down at the mini-mall shakin' his hat |
| C | |
| Washin' windows with his bare hand. |
| He found a sports car with the keys |
| In the ignition it just seemed so easy. |
| Am | |
| He | took a joyride drove into a hedge |
| C | |
| Came out with the steering wheel wrapped around his head. |
| F | C | Am | |
| Well he's | only a person... | who doesn't | know shit. |
| F C Am(let ring) |
| Nothin' happenin'...that's about it. |
| C | |
| Ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah. |
| C | |
| Well Jane was born in a small town |
| Everybody just standing around. |
| Am | |
| They had bingo ga | mes and a raffle, |
| C | |
| everybody chewin' tobacco. |
| Well she grew up kinda restless |
| All her boyfriends wanted to be dentists(dead-ass?). |
| Am | |
| And s | he got a job at the truck stop |
| C | |
| And she got all fas | t and never did what she wanted |
| F | C | Am | |
| And she's only | a person...who | doesn't k | now shit. |
| F C Am(let ring) |
| Nothing happenin'...that's about it. |
| C | |
| Yeah, yeah, yo... |
| Oh yeah...oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, oh. |
| Woo, ooh, ooh.... |
| _________ |
| Comments, suggestions, flames, |
| praise, cult classic requests, |
| and/or corrections ? |
| Send to: |
| jfrankel@intr.net |