Chords for Tie a Knot in the Devil's Tail-Chris Ledoux
Tempo:
97.55 bpm
Chords used:
A
Bb
B
E
F
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[A]
Way up high in the Sierra Peaks where the Yellow Jack [E] Pines grow tall,
Old Sandy, Bob and Buster Jigs had a round-up camp [A] last fall.
Oh, they'd taken their horses and their running irons and maybe [E] a dog or two,
And they swore they'd brand all long-eared calves that came within [A] their view.
And any old doggie that flapped long ears and didn't rush [E] up by a day,
Got his long ears twiddled and his old high shorts in a most [A] artistic way.
Now one fine day, old Sandy, Bob, out the road as easy [E] go down,
Well, I'm sick of the smell of this here burning hair and I loathe how I'm a-going to [A] town.
[Bb]
So they saddles up and they hits them a load, for it [F] weren't no sight of a rag.
And them was the days when a buckaroo could oil up his [Bb] insides.
Oh, they starts a rough at Kentucky Bar at the head [F] of a whiskey row,
And the wines up down by the Depot House, some forty [Bb] drinks below.
Then sets up and turns around and goes the [F] other way,
And to tell you the godforsaken truth, them boys got slew [Bb] that day.
Cause they was a-ridin' back to camp, a-back in [F] a pretty good load.
Oh, well, who should they meet but the devil himself a-brancin' [Bb] down the road.
[B]
Says he, you ornery cowboy skunks, you better [Gb] hunt your hoes,
For I've come up from hell's rimrock to gather in your [B] souls.
Says Sandy Bob, oh, devil be damned, we boys is [Gb] kinda tight,
And you ain't gonna get no cowboy souls without one hell [B] of a fight.
So Sandy Bob punched a hole in his rope and he swang her straight [Gb] and true,
And he lapped it on to the devil's horns and he'd taken his [B] dally's too.
Now Buster Jigs was a-read a man with his gut line coiled up [Gb] neat,
So he shakes a raft and he build him a loop and he lacerated up the [B] devil's hind feet.
[C] Oh, they stretched him out and they tailed him down while the irons [G] was gettin' hot,
And they cropped and swatted forth both his ears and they branded [C] him up a lot.
They pruned him up with a dehorning saw and they knotted his [G] tail for a joke,
But then rode off and left him there, neck to a [C] black jacko.
So if you're ever up high in the Sierra Peaks [G] and you hear one hell of a wail,
You'll know it's that devil a-bellin' about them knots tied [C] in his tail.
Way up high in the Sierra Peaks where the Yellow Jack [E] Pines grow tall,
Old Sandy, Bob and Buster Jigs had a round-up camp [A] last fall.
Oh, they'd taken their horses and their running irons and maybe [E] a dog or two,
And they swore they'd brand all long-eared calves that came within [A] their view.
And any old doggie that flapped long ears and didn't rush [E] up by a day,
Got his long ears twiddled and his old high shorts in a most [A] artistic way.
Now one fine day, old Sandy, Bob, out the road as easy [E] go down,
Well, I'm sick of the smell of this here burning hair and I loathe how I'm a-going to [A] town.
[Bb]
So they saddles up and they hits them a load, for it [F] weren't no sight of a rag.
And them was the days when a buckaroo could oil up his [Bb] insides.
Oh, they starts a rough at Kentucky Bar at the head [F] of a whiskey row,
And the wines up down by the Depot House, some forty [Bb] drinks below.
Then sets up and turns around and goes the [F] other way,
And to tell you the godforsaken truth, them boys got slew [Bb] that day.
Cause they was a-ridin' back to camp, a-back in [F] a pretty good load.
Oh, well, who should they meet but the devil himself a-brancin' [Bb] down the road.
[B]
Says he, you ornery cowboy skunks, you better [Gb] hunt your hoes,
For I've come up from hell's rimrock to gather in your [B] souls.
Says Sandy Bob, oh, devil be damned, we boys is [Gb] kinda tight,
And you ain't gonna get no cowboy souls without one hell [B] of a fight.
So Sandy Bob punched a hole in his rope and he swang her straight [Gb] and true,
And he lapped it on to the devil's horns and he'd taken his [B] dally's too.
Now Buster Jigs was a-read a man with his gut line coiled up [Gb] neat,
So he shakes a raft and he build him a loop and he lacerated up the [B] devil's hind feet.
[C] Oh, they stretched him out and they tailed him down while the irons [G] was gettin' hot,
And they cropped and swatted forth both his ears and they branded [C] him up a lot.
They pruned him up with a dehorning saw and they knotted his [G] tail for a joke,
But then rode off and left him there, neck to a [C] black jacko.
So if you're ever up high in the Sierra Peaks [G] and you hear one hell of a wail,
You'll know it's that devil a-bellin' about them knots tied [C] in his tail.
Key:
A
Bb
B
E
F
A
Bb
B
[A] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Way up high in the Sierra Peaks where the Yellow Jack [E] Pines grow tall,
Old Sandy, Bob and Buster Jigs had a round-up camp [A] last fall.
Oh, they'd taken their horses and their running irons and maybe [E] a dog or two,
And they swore they'd brand all long-eared calves that came within [A] their view.
And any old doggie that flapped long ears and didn't rush [E] up by a day,
Got his long ears twiddled and his old high shorts in a most [A] artistic way.
Now one fine day, old Sandy, Bob, out the road as easy [E] go down,
Well, I'm sick of the smell of this here burning hair and I loathe how I'm a-going to [A] town.
_ [Bb] _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
So they saddles up and they hits them a load, for it [F] weren't no sight of a rag.
And them was the days when a buckaroo could oil up his [Bb] insides.
Oh, they starts a rough at Kentucky Bar at the head [F] of a whiskey row,
And the wines up down by the Depot House, some forty [Bb] drinks below.
Then sets up and turns around and goes the [F] other way,
And to tell you the godforsaken truth, them boys got slew [Bb] that day.
Cause they was a-ridin' back to camp, a-back in [F] a pretty good load.
Oh, well, who should they meet but the devil himself a-brancin' [Bb] down the road.
[B] _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
Says he, you ornery cowboy skunks, you better [Gb] hunt your hoes,
For I've come up from hell's rimrock to gather in your [B] souls.
Says Sandy Bob, oh, devil be damned, we boys is [Gb] kinda tight,
And you ain't gonna get no cowboy souls without one hell [B] of a fight.
So Sandy Bob punched a hole in his rope and he swang her straight [Gb] and true,
And he lapped it on to the devil's horns and he'd taken his [B] dally's too.
Now Buster Jigs was a-read a man with his gut line coiled up [Gb] neat,
So he shakes a raft and he build him a loop and he lacerated up the [B] devil's hind feet. _ _
[C] _ _ _ _ _ _ Oh, they stretched him out and they tailed him down while the irons [G] was gettin' hot,
And they cropped and swatted forth both his ears and they branded [C] him up a lot.
They pruned him up with a dehorning saw and they knotted his [G] tail for a joke,
But then rode off and left him there, neck to a [C] black jacko. _
So if you're ever up high in the Sierra Peaks [G] and you hear one hell of a wail,
_ _ You'll know it's that devil a-bellin' about them knots tied [C] in his tail. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Way up high in the Sierra Peaks where the Yellow Jack [E] Pines grow tall,
Old Sandy, Bob and Buster Jigs had a round-up camp [A] last fall.
Oh, they'd taken their horses and their running irons and maybe [E] a dog or two,
And they swore they'd brand all long-eared calves that came within [A] their view.
And any old doggie that flapped long ears and didn't rush [E] up by a day,
Got his long ears twiddled and his old high shorts in a most [A] artistic way.
Now one fine day, old Sandy, Bob, out the road as easy [E] go down,
Well, I'm sick of the smell of this here burning hair and I loathe how I'm a-going to [A] town.
_ [Bb] _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
So they saddles up and they hits them a load, for it [F] weren't no sight of a rag.
And them was the days when a buckaroo could oil up his [Bb] insides.
Oh, they starts a rough at Kentucky Bar at the head [F] of a whiskey row,
And the wines up down by the Depot House, some forty [Bb] drinks below.
Then sets up and turns around and goes the [F] other way,
And to tell you the godforsaken truth, them boys got slew [Bb] that day.
Cause they was a-ridin' back to camp, a-back in [F] a pretty good load.
Oh, well, who should they meet but the devil himself a-brancin' [Bb] down the road.
[B] _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
Says he, you ornery cowboy skunks, you better [Gb] hunt your hoes,
For I've come up from hell's rimrock to gather in your [B] souls.
Says Sandy Bob, oh, devil be damned, we boys is [Gb] kinda tight,
And you ain't gonna get no cowboy souls without one hell [B] of a fight.
So Sandy Bob punched a hole in his rope and he swang her straight [Gb] and true,
And he lapped it on to the devil's horns and he'd taken his [B] dally's too.
Now Buster Jigs was a-read a man with his gut line coiled up [Gb] neat,
So he shakes a raft and he build him a loop and he lacerated up the [B] devil's hind feet. _ _
[C] _ _ _ _ _ _ Oh, they stretched him out and they tailed him down while the irons [G] was gettin' hot,
And they cropped and swatted forth both his ears and they branded [C] him up a lot.
They pruned him up with a dehorning saw and they knotted his [G] tail for a joke,
But then rode off and left him there, neck to a [C] black jacko. _
So if you're ever up high in the Sierra Peaks [G] and you hear one hell of a wail,
_ _ You'll know it's that devil a-bellin' about them knots tied [C] in his tail. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _