Sinaloa Cowboys Bruce Springsteen
Date: Thu, 4 Jan 1996 16:51:12 -0100
From: jgroce@mail.utexas.edu (Jason Groce)
Subject: SINALOA COWBOYS by Bruce Springsteen
SINALOA COWBOYS
By Bruce Springsteen
From The Ghost of Tom Joad Album
NOTES
I won't bother giving chord fingerings for this song, as they are
standard. To play along with the record, place a capo on the third
fret. Hint: Hammer on and pull of the first fret on the B string
at the end of each verse to give a hint of the fills Bruce plays.
LYRICS
Intro: G
[G]Miguel came from a small town in northern Mexi[C]co
He came [G]north with his brother Louis to California three years a[D]go
They [G]crossed at the river levee when Louis was just six[C]teen
And found [G]work together in the [D]fields of the San Joa[G]quin
They left their homes and family,
Their father said "My sons, one thing you will learn:
For everything the north gives, it exacts a price in return."
They worked side by side in the orchards
>From morning till the day was through
Doing the work the hueros wouldn't do.
Word was out some men in from Sinaloa were looking for some hands
Well deep in Fresno county there was a deserted chicken ranch.
There in a small tin shack on the edge of a ravine,
Miguel and Louis stood cooking methamphetamine.
You could [C]spend a year in the orchards
Or make half as [G]much in one ten-hour shift
Working for the [C]men from Sinaloa[G]
But if you [D]slipped the [C]hydriodic acid
Could [G]burn right through your [C]skin
They'd leave you [G]spittin' up blood in the desert[D]
If you breathed those fumes [G]in.
It was early one winter evening as Miguel stood watch outside
When the shack exploded, lighting up the valley night.
Miguel carried Louis' body over his shoulder down a swale
To the creekside and there in the tall grass Louis Rosales died.
Miguel lifted Louis' body into his truck and then he drove
To where the morning sunlight fell on a eucalyptus grove.
There in the dirt he dug up ten thousand dollars, all that they'd saved,
Kissed his brother's lips and placed him in his grave.
Ending: G C G
+-----------------------------------------+-----------------------------+
| | |
| "Immature artists imitate. | Jason Groce |
| Mature artists steal." | MFA in Playwriting |
| | UT Austin |
| -- T.S. Eliot | |
| | jgroce@mail.utexas.edu |
| | |
+-----------------------------------------+-----------------------------+
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