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BROWN EYED WOMAN Grateful Dead
[Dm]Gone are the days when the [F]ox fall down,
[C]Take up the yoke and plow the [Bb]fields around.
[Dm]Gone are the days when the [F]ladies said, "Please,
[Bb]Gentle Jack Jones, won't you come home to [F]me?"
[C]Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The [Bb]bottle was dusty but the [F]liquor was [C]clean.
[Bb]Sound of the thunder with the [F]rain fallin' [Dm]down,
And it [Gm]looks like the old man's[Bb] gettin' [F]on.
1920 when he stepped to the bar,
Drank to the dregs of the whiskey jar.
1930 when the walls caved in,
He made his way sellin' red-eyed gin.
Delilah Jones was the mother of twins,
Two times over and the rest were sins.
Raised eight boys, only I turned bad,
Didn't get the lickin's that the other ones had.
BRIDGE:
[Cm]Tumble down shack in [Bb]Bigfoot [F]county,
[Cm]Snowed so hard that the [Bb]roof caved [F]in.
[Dm]Delilah [C]Jones went to [Bb]meet her [Am]God,
And the [Bb]old man never was the same [F]again.
Daddy made whiskey and he made it well,
Cost two dollars and it burnt like hell.
I cut hick'ry just to fire the still,
Drink down a bottle and ready to kill.
And in the key of D:
Brown-Eyed Woman
(Hunter, Garcia)
[Bm]Gone are the days when the [D]ox fall down,
[A]Take up the yoke and plow the f[G]ields around.
[Bm]Gone are the days when the [D]ladies said, "Please,
[G]Gentle Jack Jones, won't you come home to [D]me?"
[A]Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The [G]bottle was dusty but the [D]liquor was [A]clean.
[G]Sound of the thunder with the [D]rain fallin' [Bm]down,
And it [Em]looks like the old man'[G]s gettin'[D] on.
1920 when he stepped to the bar,
Drank to the dregs of the whiskey jar.
1930 when the walls caved in,
He made his way sellin' red-eyed gin.
Delilah Jones was the mother of twins,
Two times over and the rest were sins.
Raised eight boys, only I turned bad,
Didn't get the lickin's that the other ones had.
BRIDGE:
[Am]Tumble down shack in [G]Bigfoot [D]county,
[Am]Snowed so hard that the [G]roof caved [D]in.
[Bm]Delilah [A]Jones went to m[G]eet her G[Am]od,
And the [G]old man never was the same [D]again.
Daddy made whiskey and he made it well,
Cost two dollars and it burnt like hell.
I cut hick'ry just to fire the still,
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