Chords for My Name is John Wellington Wells - The Sorcerer
Tempo:
134.35 bpm
Chords used:
Eb
Bb
C
Ab
G
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[Eb]
My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
in blessings and curses and ever filled purses, in prophecies, witches and nails.
If you want a proud foe to meet tracks, if you'd melt every jungle in wax,
you've got to look in on our resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Cm] We've a first-rate assortment of magic and for raising a posthumous shade.
With effects that are comic or tragic, [D] there's no cheaper [G] house in the trade.
Love filters with quantities of it and for knowledge if anyone burns,
[C] we're keeping a very [C] small profit, a [G] profit who brings us [Gm] unbounded returns.
For he can prophesy with [C] the wink of his eye,
pivvy security, inter-futurity, [A] sum of your history,
tear of a mystery, humour productivity, foreign nativity, foreign nativity.
[Bb] He has answers oracular, bogus spectacular, tetrapods critical,
mirrors are magical, facts are sonomical, solemn [Eb] or comical,
and if he wanted to make a reduction on taking a quantity, oh!
If anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Fm]
[Eb]
[Bb] He can [Ab]
raise you hosts of ghosts [E] and that without [Ab] reflectors,
and [Eb] creepy things [Ab] with wings, and gaunt and grisly spectres.
He can [B] fill you crowds of [Bb] shrouds and [G] horrify [Cm] you vastly.
He [C] can wreck your brains with [Db] chains and [B] gibbering, [Bb] screaming ghastly.
Then if you plan it, he changes organically with [C] an identity full of [Ab] satanity,
sexist humanity with an inanity fatal [Bb] to vanity,
driving your foes to the verge of insanity.
Barring tautology, in demonology, lettrobiology,
mystric gnosology, spirit philology, [Bbm] hytrostology,
such is his knowledge he isn't a man to require an [Bb] apology.
Oh!
[Eb] My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells, in blessings and curses,
and ever filled purses in prophecies, witches and nells.
And if anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery [Fm] Axe.
My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
in blessings and curses and ever filled purses, in prophecies, witches and nails.
If you want a proud foe to meet tracks, if you'd melt every jungle in wax,
you've got to look in on our resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Cm] We've a first-rate assortment of magic and for raising a posthumous shade.
With effects that are comic or tragic, [D] there's no cheaper [G] house in the trade.
Love filters with quantities of it and for knowledge if anyone burns,
[C] we're keeping a very [C] small profit, a [G] profit who brings us [Gm] unbounded returns.
For he can prophesy with [C] the wink of his eye,
pivvy security, inter-futurity, [A] sum of your history,
tear of a mystery, humour productivity, foreign nativity, foreign nativity.
[Bb] He has answers oracular, bogus spectacular, tetrapods critical,
mirrors are magical, facts are sonomical, solemn [Eb] or comical,
and if he wanted to make a reduction on taking a quantity, oh!
If anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Fm]
[Eb]
[Bb] He can [Ab]
raise you hosts of ghosts [E] and that without [Ab] reflectors,
and [Eb] creepy things [Ab] with wings, and gaunt and grisly spectres.
He can [B] fill you crowds of [Bb] shrouds and [G] horrify [Cm] you vastly.
He [C] can wreck your brains with [Db] chains and [B] gibbering, [Bb] screaming ghastly.
Then if you plan it, he changes organically with [C] an identity full of [Ab] satanity,
sexist humanity with an inanity fatal [Bb] to vanity,
driving your foes to the verge of insanity.
Barring tautology, in demonology, lettrobiology,
mystric gnosology, spirit philology, [Bbm] hytrostology,
such is his knowledge he isn't a man to require an [Bb] apology.
Oh!
[Eb] My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells, in blessings and curses,
and ever filled purses in prophecies, witches and nells.
And if anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery [Fm] Axe.
Key:
Eb
Bb
C
Ab
G
Eb
Bb
C
_ _ _ _ _ [Eb] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
in blessings and curses and ever filled purses, in prophecies, witches and nails.
If you want a proud foe to meet tracks, if you'd melt every jungle in wax,
you've got to look in on our resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Cm] We've a first-rate assortment of magic and for raising a posthumous shade.
With effects that are comic or tragic, [D] there's no cheaper [G] house in the trade.
Love filters with quantities of it and for knowledge if anyone burns,
[C] we're keeping a very [C] small profit, a [G] profit who brings us [Gm] unbounded returns.
For he can prophesy with [C] the wink of his eye,
pivvy security, inter-futurity, [A] sum of your history,
tear of a mystery, humour productivity, foreign nativity, foreign nativity.
[Bb] He has answers oracular, bogus spectacular, tetrapods critical,
mirrors are magical, facts are sonomical, solemn [Eb] or comical,
and if he wanted to make a reduction on taking a quantity, oh!
_ If anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Fm] _
_ _ [Eb] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [Bb] _ _ _ He can [Ab]
raise you hosts of ghosts [E] and that without _ [Ab] reflectors,
and [Eb] creepy things [Ab] with wings, and gaunt and grisly spectres.
He can [B] fill you crowds of [Bb] shrouds and [G] horrify [Cm] you vastly.
He [C] can wreck your brains with [Db] chains and [B] gibbering, [Bb] screaming _ _ _ ghastly.
_ Then if you plan it, he changes organically with [C] an identity full of [Ab] satanity,
sexist humanity with an inanity fatal [Bb] to vanity,
driving your foes to the verge of insanity.
_ _ Barring tautology, in demonology, lettrobiology,
mystric gnosology, spirit philology, [Bbm] hytrostology,
such is his knowledge he isn't a man to require an [Bb] apology.
Oh!
[Eb] _ My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells, in blessings and curses,
and ever filled purses in prophecies, witches and nells.
And if anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery _ [Fm] Axe. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
in blessings and curses and ever filled purses, in prophecies, witches and nails.
If you want a proud foe to meet tracks, if you'd melt every jungle in wax,
you've got to look in on our resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Cm] We've a first-rate assortment of magic and for raising a posthumous shade.
With effects that are comic or tragic, [D] there's no cheaper [G] house in the trade.
Love filters with quantities of it and for knowledge if anyone burns,
[C] we're keeping a very [C] small profit, a [G] profit who brings us [Gm] unbounded returns.
For he can prophesy with [C] the wink of his eye,
pivvy security, inter-futurity, [A] sum of your history,
tear of a mystery, humour productivity, foreign nativity, foreign nativity.
[Bb] He has answers oracular, bogus spectacular, tetrapods critical,
mirrors are magical, facts are sonomical, solemn [Eb] or comical,
and if he wanted to make a reduction on taking a quantity, oh!
_ If anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery Axe.
[Fm] _
_ _ [Eb] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [Bb] _ _ _ He can [Ab]
raise you hosts of ghosts [E] and that without _ [Ab] reflectors,
and [Eb] creepy things [Ab] with wings, and gaunt and grisly spectres.
He can [B] fill you crowds of [Bb] shrouds and [G] horrify [Cm] you vastly.
He [C] can wreck your brains with [Db] chains and [B] gibbering, [Bb] screaming _ _ _ ghastly.
_ Then if you plan it, he changes organically with [C] an identity full of [Ab] satanity,
sexist humanity with an inanity fatal [Bb] to vanity,
driving your foes to the verge of insanity.
_ _ Barring tautology, in demonology, lettrobiology,
mystric gnosology, spirit philology, [Bbm] hytrostology,
such is his knowledge he isn't a man to require an [Bb] apology.
Oh!
[Eb] _ My name is John Wellington Wells.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells, in blessings and curses,
and ever filled purses in prophecies, witches and nells.
And if anyone anything lacks, he'll find it already in stacks.
If he'd [Eb] only look in on the resident gin number 70, Simmery _ [Fm] Axe. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _