The Flat Baritone The Gourds
Form a [D]ring and [G]wind and [D]twine
Round the olâ?[G]? grap[D]e vine
[E]Heavy on the wire from the [A]house
Salt the [D]cow and [G]kill the [D]calf
Meet yer lonesome [G]once and a [D]half
[E]Gentos on the east and [A]ladies on the south
The solemn [G]boy carries [D]his silver [A]damage
Sold but [G]for, the [D]number and the [A]image
(Chorus)
His [A]eyes have [E]saddened making [D]wine from the [G]stems
[A]Empty ears [E]longing for the [D]wood and the [G]skins
Paper [Bm]yellowed from the salt and the [A]failu[A7]re
(Verse 2)
When he sings he slurs
& uses the meat of his thigh
To hold the book he wrote when he was lame
So wrapped up in his flat baritone
No castrato could woo him in from the rain
For he never raised his voice when his britches
Was spillinâ?? over with that honey truck richness
Chorus
(Verse 3)
Well the stylus hit the patches
As he spit on the splashes
& sought out the scratches in the vinyl
â??Neath a needle topped with nickels
To keep the tunes a goinâ??
Cracklinâ??, crooninâ?? and crowinâ??
Multi-coloured, hard-boiled & hidden
In the corners, with the dogs rusty remnants
Chorus
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