Coot Marseilles Blues Chords by Tom T. Hall
Tempo:
72.45 bpm
Chords used:
C
F
G
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
This story was told to me by Jerry Clower at the 1971 Disc Jockey Convention.
I told Jerry I was going to write a song about it.
My brother Hillman gonna play the cigarette paper and the comb.
Play it.
Coop Marcellus was an old black [F] man from down Mississippi way.
[C]
He worked out in the white man's yard and he loved to [G] sing and play.
[C] Old Coop worked hard, God rest his [F] soul.
He never was [C] much to roam.
His entire band was an old guitar, a cigarette paper and a comb.
Now old Coop had one song that he would [F] sing when his long day's [C] work would end.
There ain't nobody knows that song now cause I reckon that it [G] died with him.
[C] His songs were made up of dry bones [F] from pain and sweat [C] and tears.
And laudy, laudy, laudy, laudy was sometimes all you'd hear.
Now on Saturdays old Coop didn't work much, [F] except he'd build a fire in the [C] stove.
And when he'd get through he'd mosey on down and sit by the gravel [G] road.
[C] He'd hum that song as he walked along [F] with a far away look in his [C] eyes.
And he'd sit there by the road all day, watch them fine Ford cars go by.
Now on Saturday night the white folks danced [F] and old Coop he'd take [C] and sing.
He had an old RC bottleneck that he'd slide up and down them [G] strings.
[C] Now Coop didn't care much for lyrics, he [F] just made them up as he went [C] along.
And lord I wish they had tape back then cause I'd sure love to hear them sung.
Well his clothes were old and his hair was gray [F] and hard work had been [C] his back.
His songs were never recognized by statuettes or [G] plaques.
[C] His songs were all about the working man [F] and Coop never owned [C] a tie.
The only thing he ever really had to do was die.
Now old Coop's gone and maybe I'm [F] wrong to bring it all [C] back again.
But I know his friend down in Mississippi sure thought [G] a lot of him.
[C] So rock on Coop and enjoy your [F] rest, your long [C] day's work is done.
And if they got Ford's up in heaven sir, I sure hope you're driving one.
Cow dee la
I told Jerry I was going to write a song about it.
My brother Hillman gonna play the cigarette paper and the comb.
Play it.
Coop Marcellus was an old black [F] man from down Mississippi way.
[C]
He worked out in the white man's yard and he loved to [G] sing and play.
[C] Old Coop worked hard, God rest his [F] soul.
He never was [C] much to roam.
His entire band was an old guitar, a cigarette paper and a comb.
Now old Coop had one song that he would [F] sing when his long day's [C] work would end.
There ain't nobody knows that song now cause I reckon that it [G] died with him.
[C] His songs were made up of dry bones [F] from pain and sweat [C] and tears.
And laudy, laudy, laudy, laudy was sometimes all you'd hear.
Now on Saturdays old Coop didn't work much, [F] except he'd build a fire in the [C] stove.
And when he'd get through he'd mosey on down and sit by the gravel [G] road.
[C] He'd hum that song as he walked along [F] with a far away look in his [C] eyes.
And he'd sit there by the road all day, watch them fine Ford cars go by.
Now on Saturday night the white folks danced [F] and old Coop he'd take [C] and sing.
He had an old RC bottleneck that he'd slide up and down them [G] strings.
[C] Now Coop didn't care much for lyrics, he [F] just made them up as he went [C] along.
And lord I wish they had tape back then cause I'd sure love to hear them sung.
Well his clothes were old and his hair was gray [F] and hard work had been [C] his back.
His songs were never recognized by statuettes or [G] plaques.
[C] His songs were all about the working man [F] and Coop never owned [C] a tie.
The only thing he ever really had to do was die.
Now old Coop's gone and maybe I'm [F] wrong to bring it all [C] back again.
But I know his friend down in Mississippi sure thought [G] a lot of him.
[C] So rock on Coop and enjoy your [F] rest, your long [C] day's work is done.
And if they got Ford's up in heaven sir, I sure hope you're driving one.
Cow dee la
Key:
C
F
G
C
F
G
C
F
_ This story was told to me by Jerry Clower at the 1971 Disc Jockey Convention.
I told Jerry I was going to write a song about it.
My brother Hillman gonna play the cigarette paper and the comb.
Play it. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Coop Marcellus was an old black [F] man from down Mississippi way.
[C]
He worked out in the white man's yard and he loved to [G] sing and play. _
[C] Old Coop worked hard, God rest his [F] soul.
He never was [C] much to roam.
His entire band was an old guitar, a cigarette paper and a comb. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ Now old Coop had one song that he would [F] sing when his long day's [C] work would end.
There ain't nobody knows that song now cause I reckon that it [G] died with him.
_ [C] His songs were made up of dry bones [F] from pain and sweat [C] and tears.
And laudy, laudy, laudy, laudy was sometimes all you'd hear.
_ Now on Saturdays old Coop didn't work much, [F] except he'd build a fire in the [C] stove.
And when he'd get through he'd mosey on down and sit by the gravel [G] road.
_ [C] He'd hum that song as he walked along [F] with a far away look in his [C] eyes.
And he'd sit there by the road all day, watch them fine Ford cars go by.
_ Now on Saturday night the white folks danced [F] and old Coop he'd take [C] and sing.
He had an old RC bottleneck that he'd slide up and down them [G] strings.
_ [C] Now Coop didn't care much for lyrics, he [F] just made them up as he went [C] along.
And lord I wish they had tape back then cause I'd sure love to hear them sung.
_ Well his clothes were old and his hair was gray [F] and hard work had been [C] his back.
His songs were never recognized by statuettes or [G] plaques.
_ [C] His songs were all about the working man [F] and Coop never owned [C] a tie.
The only thing he ever really had to do was die. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ Now old Coop's gone and maybe I'm [F] wrong to bring it all [C] back again.
But I know his friend down in Mississippi sure thought [G] a lot of him.
_ [C] So rock on Coop and enjoy your [F] rest, your long [C] day's work is done.
And if they got Ford's up in heaven sir, I sure hope you're driving one. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ Cow dee la
I told Jerry I was going to write a song about it.
My brother Hillman gonna play the cigarette paper and the comb.
Play it. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Coop Marcellus was an old black [F] man from down Mississippi way.
[C]
He worked out in the white man's yard and he loved to [G] sing and play. _
[C] Old Coop worked hard, God rest his [F] soul.
He never was [C] much to roam.
His entire band was an old guitar, a cigarette paper and a comb. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ Now old Coop had one song that he would [F] sing when his long day's [C] work would end.
There ain't nobody knows that song now cause I reckon that it [G] died with him.
_ [C] His songs were made up of dry bones [F] from pain and sweat [C] and tears.
And laudy, laudy, laudy, laudy was sometimes all you'd hear.
_ Now on Saturdays old Coop didn't work much, [F] except he'd build a fire in the [C] stove.
And when he'd get through he'd mosey on down and sit by the gravel [G] road.
_ [C] He'd hum that song as he walked along [F] with a far away look in his [C] eyes.
And he'd sit there by the road all day, watch them fine Ford cars go by.
_ Now on Saturday night the white folks danced [F] and old Coop he'd take [C] and sing.
He had an old RC bottleneck that he'd slide up and down them [G] strings.
_ [C] Now Coop didn't care much for lyrics, he [F] just made them up as he went [C] along.
And lord I wish they had tape back then cause I'd sure love to hear them sung.
_ Well his clothes were old and his hair was gray [F] and hard work had been [C] his back.
His songs were never recognized by statuettes or [G] plaques.
_ [C] His songs were all about the working man [F] and Coop never owned [C] a tie.
The only thing he ever really had to do was die. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ Now old Coop's gone and maybe I'm [F] wrong to bring it all [C] back again.
But I know his friend down in Mississippi sure thought [G] a lot of him.
_ [C] So rock on Coop and enjoy your [F] rest, your long [C] day's work is done.
And if they got Ford's up in heaven sir, I sure hope you're driving one. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ Cow dee la