Chords for Arlo Guthrie - Ride My Motorcycle
Tempo:
81.2 bpm
Chords used:
G
C
Gm
D#
C#
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[N] [D#] Ladies and gentlemen, and Bobby, you'll enjoy this next guest, [C#] Arlo Guthrie.
[G]
Thank you very much.
I don't want a pickle, just want to ride my [C] motorcycle.
[G] And I don't want a tickle, I'd [Gm] rather ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] [C] And I don't [G] want to die, just want to [C] ride my [G] motorcycle.
[Gm] [G]
I've been singing this song, you know, for about four years.
And I was telling stories about how I wrote it and stuff like that, but there was always one thing about this song.
There was always one thing about this song that nobody ever understood, and that was the significance of the pickle.
[Gm] It was about the time I was [G] riding my motorcycle down a mountain road doing 150 miles an hour playing my guitar.
John was in the sidecar playing his guitar.
But you know when you're going down a mountain road at 150 miles an hour playing a guitar, you've got to be very careful, especially if it's an acoustic guitar.
Because you know there's more wind pressure on the back side of the guitar than on the neck side, because [C] there's more guitar [G] on the back side.
[C] John wasn't paying [G] attention and three strings broke right there.
They broke and flew across the side of the road, wrapped around a sign.
But they were heavy gauge strings and they didn't break.
John held on tight to his guitar, not realizing that he was seat belted in the sidecar.
John stuck to the guitar, I stuck to my guitar, and the bike stuck to the sidecar, and we all [Gm] stuck together.
But the result of them three strings breaking and wrapping around the sign on the side of the road was that we all made a sharp turn off the side of the road.
[G] We went off a mountain cliff 500 feet in the air.
We were doing 150 miles an hour sideways and 500 feet down at the same time, looking for the fuzz.
We knew it was illegal, you know.
There he was at the bottom of the mountain riding out a 10 foot ticket.
It was about the same time that we saw him in the ticket that we squashed him.
Came into town at a screaming 175 miles an hour, making up parts to the Motorcycle Song.
We got into town, pulled out front of the general store, got off,
and out front of the general store was a man eating the biggest pickle.
This pickle was so huge, it was the size of two pregnant [Gm] watermelons.
This huge [G] pickle.
I put the pickle in my face and started asking weird questions.
It was the same time I noticed the pickle in my nose.
I noticed the cord hanging out [Gm] from the middle of the [G] pickle into his coat, through his sleeve, into a briefcase he had in his hand.
I knew it was no ordinary pickle.
I knew he was no ordinary dude.
It was about that same time I noticed the cord going into his briefcase that a four foot cop arrived with a five foot gun.
It was a cop that at one time had been around six [Gm] four, was met at the [G] bottom of a mountain by two flying weirdos.
He walked up with one finger, put the pickle from the man's hand, threw it 20 feet in the air,
took out his five foot gun, put a three inch bullet hole right through the long end of the pickle.
The pickle came down and balanced it on his big toe.
Balancing the pickle on his big toe, he proceeded to roll up the ten foot ticket, shove it in the middle of the bullet hole in the pickle.
Took the pickle with the ticket and shoved it in my mouth.
It was at that very moment that [Gm] the pickle entered my mouth that I knew for sure [G] that I didn't want a pickle.
I don't want a pickle.
Just want to ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] And I don't want a pickle.
I'd rather [C] ride my [G] motorcycle.
And [C] I don't [G] want to die.
[Gm] Just want to ride [C] my [G] motorcycle.
[G]
Thank you very much.
I don't want a pickle, just want to ride my [C] motorcycle.
[G] And I don't want a tickle, I'd [Gm] rather ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] [C] And I don't [G] want to die, just want to [C] ride my [G] motorcycle.
[Gm] [G]
I've been singing this song, you know, for about four years.
And I was telling stories about how I wrote it and stuff like that, but there was always one thing about this song.
There was always one thing about this song that nobody ever understood, and that was the significance of the pickle.
[Gm] It was about the time I was [G] riding my motorcycle down a mountain road doing 150 miles an hour playing my guitar.
John was in the sidecar playing his guitar.
But you know when you're going down a mountain road at 150 miles an hour playing a guitar, you've got to be very careful, especially if it's an acoustic guitar.
Because you know there's more wind pressure on the back side of the guitar than on the neck side, because [C] there's more guitar [G] on the back side.
[C] John wasn't paying [G] attention and three strings broke right there.
They broke and flew across the side of the road, wrapped around a sign.
But they were heavy gauge strings and they didn't break.
John held on tight to his guitar, not realizing that he was seat belted in the sidecar.
John stuck to the guitar, I stuck to my guitar, and the bike stuck to the sidecar, and we all [Gm] stuck together.
But the result of them three strings breaking and wrapping around the sign on the side of the road was that we all made a sharp turn off the side of the road.
[G] We went off a mountain cliff 500 feet in the air.
We were doing 150 miles an hour sideways and 500 feet down at the same time, looking for the fuzz.
We knew it was illegal, you know.
There he was at the bottom of the mountain riding out a 10 foot ticket.
It was about the same time that we saw him in the ticket that we squashed him.
Came into town at a screaming 175 miles an hour, making up parts to the Motorcycle Song.
We got into town, pulled out front of the general store, got off,
and out front of the general store was a man eating the biggest pickle.
This pickle was so huge, it was the size of two pregnant [Gm] watermelons.
This huge [G] pickle.
I put the pickle in my face and started asking weird questions.
It was the same time I noticed the pickle in my nose.
I noticed the cord hanging out [Gm] from the middle of the [G] pickle into his coat, through his sleeve, into a briefcase he had in his hand.
I knew it was no ordinary pickle.
I knew he was no ordinary dude.
It was about that same time I noticed the cord going into his briefcase that a four foot cop arrived with a five foot gun.
It was a cop that at one time had been around six [Gm] four, was met at the [G] bottom of a mountain by two flying weirdos.
He walked up with one finger, put the pickle from the man's hand, threw it 20 feet in the air,
took out his five foot gun, put a three inch bullet hole right through the long end of the pickle.
The pickle came down and balanced it on his big toe.
Balancing the pickle on his big toe, he proceeded to roll up the ten foot ticket, shove it in the middle of the bullet hole in the pickle.
Took the pickle with the ticket and shoved it in my mouth.
It was at that very moment that [Gm] the pickle entered my mouth that I knew for sure [G] that I didn't want a pickle.
I don't want a pickle.
Just want to ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] And I don't want a pickle.
I'd rather [C] ride my [G] motorcycle.
And [C] I don't [G] want to die.
[Gm] Just want to ride [C] my [G] motorcycle.
Key:
G
C
Gm
D#
C#
G
C
Gm
[N] _ _ _ [D#] _ Ladies and gentlemen, and Bobby, you'll enjoy this next guest, [C#] Arlo Guthrie.
_ [G] _
Thank you very much. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ I don't want a pickle, _ _ _ just want to ride my [C] motorcycle.
[G] _ _ _ And I don't want a tickle, _ _ I'd [Gm] rather ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] _ _ _ [C] And I don't [G] want to die, _ _ just want to [C] ride my _ [G] _ motorcycle.
_ [Gm] _ [G] _
_ _ I've been singing this song, you know, for about four years.
And I was telling stories about how I wrote it and stuff like that, but there was always one thing about this song.
There was always one thing about this song that nobody ever understood, and that was the significance of the pickle.
_ [Gm] It was about the time I was [G] riding my motorcycle down a mountain road doing 150 miles an hour playing my guitar.
John was in the sidecar playing his guitar.
But you know when you're going down a mountain road at 150 miles an hour playing a guitar, you've got to be very careful, especially if it's an acoustic guitar.
Because you know there's more wind pressure on the back side of the guitar than on the neck side, because [C] there's more guitar [G] on the back side.
[C] John wasn't paying [G] attention and three strings broke right there.
They broke and flew across the side of the road, wrapped around a sign.
But they were heavy gauge strings and they didn't break.
John held on tight to his guitar, not realizing that he was seat belted in the sidecar.
John stuck to the guitar, I stuck to my guitar, and the bike stuck to the sidecar, and we all [Gm] stuck together.
But the result of them three strings breaking and wrapping around the sign on the side of the road was that we all made a sharp turn off the side of the road.
[G] We went off a mountain cliff 500 feet in the air.
We were doing 150 miles an hour sideways and 500 feet down at the same time, looking for the fuzz. _
We knew it was illegal, you know.
_ There he was at the bottom of the mountain riding out a 10 foot ticket.
It was about the _ same time that we saw him in the ticket that we squashed him.
Came into town at a screaming 175 miles an hour, making up parts to the Motorcycle Song.
We got into town, pulled out front of the general store, got off,
and out front of the general store was a man eating the biggest pickle.
This pickle was so huge, it was the size of two pregnant [Gm] watermelons.
This huge [G] pickle.
I put the pickle in my face and started asking weird questions.
It was the same time I noticed the pickle in my nose.
I noticed the cord hanging out [Gm] from the middle of the [G] pickle into his coat, through his sleeve, into a briefcase he had in his hand.
I knew it was no ordinary pickle.
I knew he was no ordinary dude.
It was about that same time I noticed the cord going into his briefcase that a four foot cop arrived with a five foot gun.
It was a cop that at one time had been around six [Gm] four, was met at the [G] bottom of a mountain by two flying weirdos.
He walked up with one finger, put the pickle from the man's hand, threw it 20 feet in the air,
took out his five foot gun, put a three inch bullet hole right through the long end of the pickle.
The pickle came down and balanced it on his big toe.
Balancing the pickle on his big toe, he proceeded to roll up the ten foot ticket, shove it in the middle of the bullet hole in the pickle.
Took the pickle with the ticket and shoved it in my mouth.
_ It was at that very moment that [Gm] the pickle entered my mouth that I knew for sure [G] that I didn't want a pickle. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ I don't want a pickle.
_ _ _ Just want to ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] _ _ _ And I don't want a pickle.
_ _ _ I'd rather [C] ride my [G] motorcycle.
_ _ And [C] I don't [G] want to die.
_ _ [Gm] Just want to ride [C] my _ [G] motorcycle. _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [G] _
Thank you very much. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ I don't want a pickle, _ _ _ just want to ride my [C] motorcycle.
[G] _ _ _ And I don't want a tickle, _ _ I'd [Gm] rather ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] _ _ _ [C] And I don't [G] want to die, _ _ just want to [C] ride my _ [G] _ motorcycle.
_ [Gm] _ [G] _
_ _ I've been singing this song, you know, for about four years.
And I was telling stories about how I wrote it and stuff like that, but there was always one thing about this song.
There was always one thing about this song that nobody ever understood, and that was the significance of the pickle.
_ [Gm] It was about the time I was [G] riding my motorcycle down a mountain road doing 150 miles an hour playing my guitar.
John was in the sidecar playing his guitar.
But you know when you're going down a mountain road at 150 miles an hour playing a guitar, you've got to be very careful, especially if it's an acoustic guitar.
Because you know there's more wind pressure on the back side of the guitar than on the neck side, because [C] there's more guitar [G] on the back side.
[C] John wasn't paying [G] attention and three strings broke right there.
They broke and flew across the side of the road, wrapped around a sign.
But they were heavy gauge strings and they didn't break.
John held on tight to his guitar, not realizing that he was seat belted in the sidecar.
John stuck to the guitar, I stuck to my guitar, and the bike stuck to the sidecar, and we all [Gm] stuck together.
But the result of them three strings breaking and wrapping around the sign on the side of the road was that we all made a sharp turn off the side of the road.
[G] We went off a mountain cliff 500 feet in the air.
We were doing 150 miles an hour sideways and 500 feet down at the same time, looking for the fuzz. _
We knew it was illegal, you know.
_ There he was at the bottom of the mountain riding out a 10 foot ticket.
It was about the _ same time that we saw him in the ticket that we squashed him.
Came into town at a screaming 175 miles an hour, making up parts to the Motorcycle Song.
We got into town, pulled out front of the general store, got off,
and out front of the general store was a man eating the biggest pickle.
This pickle was so huge, it was the size of two pregnant [Gm] watermelons.
This huge [G] pickle.
I put the pickle in my face and started asking weird questions.
It was the same time I noticed the pickle in my nose.
I noticed the cord hanging out [Gm] from the middle of the [G] pickle into his coat, through his sleeve, into a briefcase he had in his hand.
I knew it was no ordinary pickle.
I knew he was no ordinary dude.
It was about that same time I noticed the cord going into his briefcase that a four foot cop arrived with a five foot gun.
It was a cop that at one time had been around six [Gm] four, was met at the [G] bottom of a mountain by two flying weirdos.
He walked up with one finger, put the pickle from the man's hand, threw it 20 feet in the air,
took out his five foot gun, put a three inch bullet hole right through the long end of the pickle.
The pickle came down and balanced it on his big toe.
Balancing the pickle on his big toe, he proceeded to roll up the ten foot ticket, shove it in the middle of the bullet hole in the pickle.
Took the pickle with the ticket and shoved it in my mouth.
_ It was at that very moment that [Gm] the pickle entered my mouth that I knew for sure [G] that I didn't want a pickle. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ I don't want a pickle.
_ _ _ Just want to ride [C] my motorcycle.
[G] _ _ _ And I don't want a pickle.
_ _ _ I'd rather [C] ride my [G] motorcycle.
_ _ And [C] I don't [G] want to die.
_ _ [Gm] Just want to ride [C] my _ [G] motorcycle. _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _