House Of Shame Chords by Porter Wagoner
Tempo:
89.55 bpm
Chords used:
G
D
C
Am
Bm
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[Gm]
[G]
There's nothing unusual about the way my day [D] begins, [G] as I walk up and down the streets
with my mail pouch in my hands.
[D] I've run this route for years, everybody knows [G] my name, especially at the old folks home,
which I call the house of shame.
[D]
The [G] old folks home is my last stop, that's where I end my daily route, [D] and my mail pouch
is usually empty by then, not [G] always, but just about, [D] except for an occasional letter,
and they all wait anxiously, [C] with [G] sad eyes that ask the question, is there anything for
me, [A] and I hear their trembling voices [D] as they talk back and forth.
I guess [F#] the children are just too busy [G] to write, they got a lot of things to do, of
[D] course, [G] and I try to cheer them up and say things [D] to make them feel better, and I think
to myself just how [G] little effort it takes to write a letter.
They're old and wrinkled faces, [C] and hair as white as snow, [G] and memories locked up in
their minds that only they could know.
[Am] [D] I spend many hours there at the end of each [G] day's run, trying in some way to fill the
place of a daughter or a [C] son, [G] and I listen as they tell me of their families, of days
gone by, [Am] and the sadness there at times is [D] so great I [G] can't help but cry.
And though it's reality, it seems more like a dream, [C] that some of them have [G] grandchildren
that they've never even seen,
[D] and I think it's such a shame that the children that they
have raised [G] would put them in this house of shame to spend their latter days.
[C] So there they sit, just waiting, [G] waiting for letters they never get, waiting for children
[Bm] that never [D] come by, waiting, just [G] waiting to die.
You see, my [Bm] folks are old now too, [G] and we've put them [C] in a home, [G] but the difference is
they live with us, and [D] they'll never be alone.
[G]
[G]
There's nothing unusual about the way my day [D] begins, [G] as I walk up and down the streets
with my mail pouch in my hands.
[D] I've run this route for years, everybody knows [G] my name, especially at the old folks home,
which I call the house of shame.
[D]
The [G] old folks home is my last stop, that's where I end my daily route, [D] and my mail pouch
is usually empty by then, not [G] always, but just about, [D] except for an occasional letter,
and they all wait anxiously, [C] with [G] sad eyes that ask the question, is there anything for
me, [A] and I hear their trembling voices [D] as they talk back and forth.
I guess [F#] the children are just too busy [G] to write, they got a lot of things to do, of
[D] course, [G] and I try to cheer them up and say things [D] to make them feel better, and I think
to myself just how [G] little effort it takes to write a letter.
They're old and wrinkled faces, [C] and hair as white as snow, [G] and memories locked up in
their minds that only they could know.
[Am] [D] I spend many hours there at the end of each [G] day's run, trying in some way to fill the
place of a daughter or a [C] son, [G] and I listen as they tell me of their families, of days
gone by, [Am] and the sadness there at times is [D] so great I [G] can't help but cry.
And though it's reality, it seems more like a dream, [C] that some of them have [G] grandchildren
that they've never even seen,
[D] and I think it's such a shame that the children that they
have raised [G] would put them in this house of shame to spend their latter days.
[C] So there they sit, just waiting, [G] waiting for letters they never get, waiting for children
[Bm] that never [D] come by, waiting, just [G] waiting to die.
You see, my [Bm] folks are old now too, [G] and we've put them [C] in a home, [G] but the difference is
they live with us, and [D] they'll never be alone.
[G]
Key:
G
D
C
Am
Bm
G
D
C
_ _ _ _ _ [Gm] _ _ _
_ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ There's nothing unusual about the way my day [D] begins, [G] as I walk up and down the streets
with my mail pouch in my hands.
_ [D] _ I've run this route for years, _ everybody knows [G] my name, _ _ especially at the old folks home,
which I call the house of shame.
_ _ [D]
The [G] old folks home is my last stop, that's where I end my daily route, _ [D] and my mail pouch
is usually empty by then, not [G] always, but just about, _ _ _ _ [D] except for an occasional letter,
and they all wait anxiously, [C] with [G] sad eyes that ask the question, is there anything for
me, [A] _ _ _ and I hear their trembling voices [D] as they talk back and forth.
I guess [F#] the children are just too busy [G] to write, they got a lot of things to do, of
[D] course, _ [G] _ _ _ and I try to cheer them up and say things [D] to make them feel better, and I think
to myself just how [G] little effort it takes to write a letter. _ _ _
They're old and wrinkled faces, [C] and hair as white as snow, [G] _ and memories locked up in
their minds that only they could know.
[Am] _ _ [D] I spend many hours there at the end of each [G] day's run, _ _ trying in some way to fill the
place of a daughter or a [C] son, _ _ [G] and I listen as they tell me of their families, of days
gone by, [Am] and the sadness there at times is [D] so great I _ [G] can't help but cry.
_ _ _ And though it's reality, it seems more like a dream, _ [C] _ that some of them have [G] grandchildren
that they've never even seen, _
_ [D] and I think it's such a shame that the children that they
have raised [G] _ would put them in this house of shame to spend their latter days.
_ _ _ [C] So there they sit, just waiting, [G] waiting for letters they never get, _ waiting for children
[Bm] that never [D] come by, waiting, _ _ just [G] waiting to die.
_ _ _ You see, my [Bm] folks are old now too, [G] _ and we've put them [C] in a home, _ _ [G] but the difference is
they live with us, and [D] they'll never be alone. _ _ _ _ _
_ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ There's nothing unusual about the way my day [D] begins, [G] as I walk up and down the streets
with my mail pouch in my hands.
_ [D] _ I've run this route for years, _ everybody knows [G] my name, _ _ especially at the old folks home,
which I call the house of shame.
_ _ [D]
The [G] old folks home is my last stop, that's where I end my daily route, _ [D] and my mail pouch
is usually empty by then, not [G] always, but just about, _ _ _ _ [D] except for an occasional letter,
and they all wait anxiously, [C] with [G] sad eyes that ask the question, is there anything for
me, [A] _ _ _ and I hear their trembling voices [D] as they talk back and forth.
I guess [F#] the children are just too busy [G] to write, they got a lot of things to do, of
[D] course, _ [G] _ _ _ and I try to cheer them up and say things [D] to make them feel better, and I think
to myself just how [G] little effort it takes to write a letter. _ _ _
They're old and wrinkled faces, [C] and hair as white as snow, [G] _ and memories locked up in
their minds that only they could know.
[Am] _ _ [D] I spend many hours there at the end of each [G] day's run, _ _ trying in some way to fill the
place of a daughter or a [C] son, _ _ [G] and I listen as they tell me of their families, of days
gone by, [Am] and the sadness there at times is [D] so great I _ [G] can't help but cry.
_ _ _ And though it's reality, it seems more like a dream, _ [C] _ that some of them have [G] grandchildren
that they've never even seen, _
_ [D] and I think it's such a shame that the children that they
have raised [G] _ would put them in this house of shame to spend their latter days.
_ _ _ [C] So there they sit, just waiting, [G] waiting for letters they never get, _ waiting for children
[Bm] that never [D] come by, waiting, _ _ just [G] waiting to die.
_ _ _ You see, my [Bm] folks are old now too, [G] _ and we've put them [C] in a home, _ _ [G] but the difference is
they live with us, and [D] they'll never be alone. _ _ _ _ _
_ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _ _