Chords for Wish I'd Stayed in Jail
Tempo:
85.45 bpm
Chords used:
A
F#m
A#
E
Gm
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[E] [A]
Well, the law man swore it was good advice, [F#m] said, son, you can start [A] all over.
Get you a job, get out of [F#m] this town, [E] Wigdoss [A] is needin' some drovers.
And he slammed the door to [F#m] the Waco jail, said, [E] he sent me [A] on my way.
Said, if I didn't take the cowboy [F#m] life, he'd out of [E] place, I could [A] always stay.
[F#m] So I traded his gill [A] bars for a sky full of [D] stars, a cot [E] for a [A] borrowed saddle.
[F#m] I ain't had no sleep, [A] can't count no sheep, [D] just eleven [E] hundred longhorn cattle.
[F#m] I'll be darned if I ever learned [E] to like [A] this chiseled trail.
Life's too rough, I ain't made that tough, and I [E] wish Doc [A] stayed in jail.
I never thought I'd see the day [F#] I'd prefer [A] bread and water
to whatever it is old Granny [F#m] slings.
I don't [A] see why he bothers.
Build a fire to heat the [F#m] stuff, [C#m] cause it [A] don't kill the smell.
We've all inquired what's in your [F#m] stew, [E] but Granny, [A] he won't tell.
[F#m] Oh, [A] Wigdoss is crippling, and [D] Cross is a [E] miserly [A] penny pincher.
[F#] Lord help the man [A] who gets out of hand [D] and [E] tests the [A] boss's temper.
[F#m] There ain't much sides an old wood crutch [E] fit this [A] old coot hose, dear.
Except the dream of gold when [F#m] the herd is sold, [E] losing it's [Am] his only [A] fear.
But we moved him north across the [F#m] Texas plains into Indian [A] territory.
Aside from the torture of riding drag, [F#m] everything was hunky [A]-dory.
But things took an [F#m] unexpected turn when [C#m] we crossed [A] Red River water,
where the herd took to grazing on coward [F#m] grass claimed [E] by old [A] Stumble and Otter.
[F#m] Wigdoss, mid-chief, you're a cause of me [D] grief, you're a [E] master [A] of extortion.
[F#m] Only the Kiowa man [A] said to cross his land [D] he would [E] require a [A] fair portion
[F#m] of the merchandise.
[A] There's the Kiowa price [E] for the grazing [A] of his grasses.
Stumble and Otter drove [F#m] a rock-hard barter with [E] all would [A]-be trespassers.
Oh, Wigdoss just flustered and [F#] cussed as we watched him [A] get more irate.
Swore he'd never do business with [F#m] this ornery [A] prairie pirate.
As the two old buzzards haggled I [E] pondered how this would [A] affect us.
Then old Wigdoss said, come [F#m] on boys, [E] we're going [A] back to Texas.
[F#m] Every [A] bovine thought we'd lost our [D] mind as we [E] turned them [A] towards the river.
[F#m] Wigdoss cried, [A] I didn't make this [D] drive [E] only [A] to deliver
[F#m] even one beef to a Kiowa chief.
[D] These [E] longhorns are [A] Wigdoss's.
For a payin' tax [F#m] I'll take them all back down [E] to Texas and [A] count my losses.
[F] [A#] So across Red River it backtracks [Gm] south across the [A#] Lone Star Plains.
When we reached the friars in Waco [Gm] town the home fires [A#] burned again.
We politely asked old Mr.
Doss could we please draw our wages?
As the purple rose around his [Gm] neck [F] he flew into [A#] one of his [Gm] rages.
I ain't [A#] about to give you [D#] louts one [F] measly [A#] copper penny.
[Gm] It was understood [A#] that you boys [D#] would get [F] paid when the drive was [Gm] finished.
Well here we be [A#] and you can see [D#] we're a long [A#] ways from Dot City.
You've got your pluck but you're out of luck [F] I'm the man [A#] that deserves pity.
Then something inside me snapped [Gm] apart like a fiddle [A#] string a-breaking.
I kicked that crutch out from under his [Gm] arm and he began [A#] to quaking.
Before he wilted plumb to the ground [Gm] I fastened all [A#] my fingers
around his goozle with all [Gm] my grip [F] not thinking [A#] of the danger.
[Gm] Next thing I knew I was a-coming [D#] to in [F] an old [A#] familiar setting.
[Gm] Bars on the [A#] door and a damp dirt [D#] floor and an [F] old cot [A#] for my bedding.
[Gm] A pain so [A#] dull neat the knot of my [D#] skull a [F] feeling [A#] like a failure.
You're one sad sack but welcome back [F] were the words [A#] of the Waco jailer.
The moral of my story [Gm] is be careful [A#] with your wishing.
I'm back at home in my cozy [Gm] cell but it ain't [A#] like it envisioned.
Well call it misfortune call it bad luck [Gm] or [F] just call it fate.
[Dm] I'm sharing my six by [A#] nine foot space [F] with Wick Joss as my [A#] cellmate.
[D#] [A#]
Well, the law man swore it was good advice, [F#m] said, son, you can start [A] all over.
Get you a job, get out of [F#m] this town, [E] Wigdoss [A] is needin' some drovers.
And he slammed the door to [F#m] the Waco jail, said, [E] he sent me [A] on my way.
Said, if I didn't take the cowboy [F#m] life, he'd out of [E] place, I could [A] always stay.
[F#m] So I traded his gill [A] bars for a sky full of [D] stars, a cot [E] for a [A] borrowed saddle.
[F#m] I ain't had no sleep, [A] can't count no sheep, [D] just eleven [E] hundred longhorn cattle.
[F#m] I'll be darned if I ever learned [E] to like [A] this chiseled trail.
Life's too rough, I ain't made that tough, and I [E] wish Doc [A] stayed in jail.
I never thought I'd see the day [F#] I'd prefer [A] bread and water
to whatever it is old Granny [F#m] slings.
I don't [A] see why he bothers.
Build a fire to heat the [F#m] stuff, [C#m] cause it [A] don't kill the smell.
We've all inquired what's in your [F#m] stew, [E] but Granny, [A] he won't tell.
[F#m] Oh, [A] Wigdoss is crippling, and [D] Cross is a [E] miserly [A] penny pincher.
[F#] Lord help the man [A] who gets out of hand [D] and [E] tests the [A] boss's temper.
[F#m] There ain't much sides an old wood crutch [E] fit this [A] old coot hose, dear.
Except the dream of gold when [F#m] the herd is sold, [E] losing it's [Am] his only [A] fear.
But we moved him north across the [F#m] Texas plains into Indian [A] territory.
Aside from the torture of riding drag, [F#m] everything was hunky [A]-dory.
But things took an [F#m] unexpected turn when [C#m] we crossed [A] Red River water,
where the herd took to grazing on coward [F#m] grass claimed [E] by old [A] Stumble and Otter.
[F#m] Wigdoss, mid-chief, you're a cause of me [D] grief, you're a [E] master [A] of extortion.
[F#m] Only the Kiowa man [A] said to cross his land [D] he would [E] require a [A] fair portion
[F#m] of the merchandise.
[A] There's the Kiowa price [E] for the grazing [A] of his grasses.
Stumble and Otter drove [F#m] a rock-hard barter with [E] all would [A]-be trespassers.
Oh, Wigdoss just flustered and [F#] cussed as we watched him [A] get more irate.
Swore he'd never do business with [F#m] this ornery [A] prairie pirate.
As the two old buzzards haggled I [E] pondered how this would [A] affect us.
Then old Wigdoss said, come [F#m] on boys, [E] we're going [A] back to Texas.
[F#m] Every [A] bovine thought we'd lost our [D] mind as we [E] turned them [A] towards the river.
[F#m] Wigdoss cried, [A] I didn't make this [D] drive [E] only [A] to deliver
[F#m] even one beef to a Kiowa chief.
[D] These [E] longhorns are [A] Wigdoss's.
For a payin' tax [F#m] I'll take them all back down [E] to Texas and [A] count my losses.
[F] [A#] So across Red River it backtracks [Gm] south across the [A#] Lone Star Plains.
When we reached the friars in Waco [Gm] town the home fires [A#] burned again.
We politely asked old Mr.
Doss could we please draw our wages?
As the purple rose around his [Gm] neck [F] he flew into [A#] one of his [Gm] rages.
I ain't [A#] about to give you [D#] louts one [F] measly [A#] copper penny.
[Gm] It was understood [A#] that you boys [D#] would get [F] paid when the drive was [Gm] finished.
Well here we be [A#] and you can see [D#] we're a long [A#] ways from Dot City.
You've got your pluck but you're out of luck [F] I'm the man [A#] that deserves pity.
Then something inside me snapped [Gm] apart like a fiddle [A#] string a-breaking.
I kicked that crutch out from under his [Gm] arm and he began [A#] to quaking.
Before he wilted plumb to the ground [Gm] I fastened all [A#] my fingers
around his goozle with all [Gm] my grip [F] not thinking [A#] of the danger.
[Gm] Next thing I knew I was a-coming [D#] to in [F] an old [A#] familiar setting.
[Gm] Bars on the [A#] door and a damp dirt [D#] floor and an [F] old cot [A#] for my bedding.
[Gm] A pain so [A#] dull neat the knot of my [D#] skull a [F] feeling [A#] like a failure.
You're one sad sack but welcome back [F] were the words [A#] of the Waco jailer.
The moral of my story [Gm] is be careful [A#] with your wishing.
I'm back at home in my cozy [Gm] cell but it ain't [A#] like it envisioned.
Well call it misfortune call it bad luck [Gm] or [F] just call it fate.
[Dm] I'm sharing my six by [A#] nine foot space [F] with Wick Joss as my [A#] cellmate.
[D#] [A#]
Key:
A
F#m
A#
E
Gm
A
F#m
A#
_ _ _ _ _ _ [E] _ [A] _
_ _ Well, the law man swore it was good advice, [F#m] said, son, you can start [A] all over.
Get you a job, get out of [F#m] this town, [E] Wigdoss [A] is needin' some drovers.
And he slammed the door to [F#m] the Waco jail, said, [E] he sent me [A] on my way.
Said, if I didn't take the cowboy [F#m] life, he'd out of [E] place, I could [A] always stay.
[F#m] So I traded his gill [A] bars for a sky full of [D] stars, a cot [E] for a [A] borrowed saddle.
[F#m] I ain't had no sleep, [A] can't count no sheep, [D] just eleven [E] hundred longhorn cattle.
[F#m] I'll be darned if I ever learned [E] to like [A] this chiseled trail.
Life's too rough, I ain't made that tough, and I [E] wish Doc [A] stayed in jail.
_ I never thought I'd see the day [F#] I'd prefer [A] bread and water
to whatever it is old Granny [F#m] slings.
I don't [A] see why he bothers.
Build a fire to heat the [F#m] stuff, [C#m] cause it [A] don't kill the smell.
We've all inquired what's in your [F#m] stew, [E] but Granny, [A] he won't tell.
[F#m] Oh, [A] Wigdoss is crippling, and [D] Cross is a [E] miserly [A] penny pincher.
[F#] Lord help the man [A] who gets out of hand [D] and [E] tests the [A] boss's temper.
[F#m] There ain't much sides an old wood crutch [E] fit this [A] old coot hose, dear.
Except the dream of gold when [F#m] the herd is sold, [E] losing it's [Am] his only [A] fear.
_ But we moved him north across the [F#m] Texas plains into Indian [A] territory.
Aside from the torture of riding drag, [F#m] everything was hunky [A]-dory.
But things took an [F#m] unexpected turn when [C#m] we crossed [A] Red River water,
where the herd took to grazing on coward [F#m] grass claimed [E] by old [A] Stumble and Otter.
[F#m] Wigdoss, mid-chief, you're a cause of me [D] grief, you're a [E] master [A] of extortion.
[F#m] Only the Kiowa man [A] said to cross his land [D] he would [E] require a [A] fair portion
[F#m] of the merchandise.
[A] There's the Kiowa price [E] for the grazing [A] of his grasses.
Stumble and Otter drove [F#m] a rock-hard barter with [E] all would [A]-be trespassers.
_ _ Oh, Wigdoss just flustered and [F#] cussed as we watched him [A] get more irate.
Swore he'd never do business with [F#m] this ornery [A] prairie pirate.
As the two old buzzards haggled I [E] pondered how this would [A] affect us.
Then old Wigdoss said, come [F#m] on boys, [E] we're going [A] back to Texas.
[F#m] Every [A] bovine thought we'd lost our [D] mind as we [E] turned them [A] towards the river.
[F#m] Wigdoss cried, [A] I didn't make this [D] drive [E] only [A] to deliver
[F#m] even one beef to a Kiowa chief.
[D] These [E] longhorns are [A] Wigdoss's.
For a payin' tax [F#m] I'll take them all back down [E] to Texas and [A] count my losses.
[F] _ [A#] So across Red River it backtracks [Gm] south across the [A#] Lone Star Plains.
When we reached the friars in Waco [Gm] town the home fires [A#] burned again.
We politely asked old Mr.
Doss could we please draw our wages?
As the purple rose around his [Gm] neck [F] he flew into [A#] one of his [Gm] rages.
I ain't [A#] about to give you [D#] louts one [F] measly [A#] copper penny.
[Gm] It was understood [A#] that you boys [D#] would get [F] paid when the drive was [Gm] finished.
Well here we be [A#] and you can see [D#] we're a long [A#] ways from Dot City.
You've got your pluck but you're out of luck [F] I'm the man [A#] that deserves pity.
_ Then something inside me snapped [Gm] apart like a fiddle [A#] string a-breaking.
I kicked that crutch out from under his [Gm] arm and he began [A#] to quaking.
Before he wilted plumb to the ground [Gm] I fastened all [A#] my fingers
around his goozle with all [Gm] my grip [F] not thinking [A#] of the danger.
[Gm] Next thing I knew I was a-coming [D#] to in [F] an old [A#] familiar setting.
[Gm] Bars on the [A#] door and a damp dirt [D#] floor and an [F] old cot [A#] for my bedding.
[Gm] A pain so [A#] dull neat the knot of my [D#] skull a [F] feeling [A#] like a failure.
You're one sad sack but welcome back [F] were the words [A#] of the Waco jailer.
_ The moral of my story [Gm] is be careful [A#] with your wishing.
I'm back at home in my cozy [Gm] cell but it ain't [A#] like it envisioned.
Well call it misfortune call it bad luck [Gm] or [F] just call it fate.
[Dm] I'm sharing my six by [A#] nine foot space [F] with Wick Joss as my [A#] cellmate.
_ [D#] _ _ _ _ [A#] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ Well, the law man swore it was good advice, [F#m] said, son, you can start [A] all over.
Get you a job, get out of [F#m] this town, [E] Wigdoss [A] is needin' some drovers.
And he slammed the door to [F#m] the Waco jail, said, [E] he sent me [A] on my way.
Said, if I didn't take the cowboy [F#m] life, he'd out of [E] place, I could [A] always stay.
[F#m] So I traded his gill [A] bars for a sky full of [D] stars, a cot [E] for a [A] borrowed saddle.
[F#m] I ain't had no sleep, [A] can't count no sheep, [D] just eleven [E] hundred longhorn cattle.
[F#m] I'll be darned if I ever learned [E] to like [A] this chiseled trail.
Life's too rough, I ain't made that tough, and I [E] wish Doc [A] stayed in jail.
_ I never thought I'd see the day [F#] I'd prefer [A] bread and water
to whatever it is old Granny [F#m] slings.
I don't [A] see why he bothers.
Build a fire to heat the [F#m] stuff, [C#m] cause it [A] don't kill the smell.
We've all inquired what's in your [F#m] stew, [E] but Granny, [A] he won't tell.
[F#m] Oh, [A] Wigdoss is crippling, and [D] Cross is a [E] miserly [A] penny pincher.
[F#] Lord help the man [A] who gets out of hand [D] and [E] tests the [A] boss's temper.
[F#m] There ain't much sides an old wood crutch [E] fit this [A] old coot hose, dear.
Except the dream of gold when [F#m] the herd is sold, [E] losing it's [Am] his only [A] fear.
_ But we moved him north across the [F#m] Texas plains into Indian [A] territory.
Aside from the torture of riding drag, [F#m] everything was hunky [A]-dory.
But things took an [F#m] unexpected turn when [C#m] we crossed [A] Red River water,
where the herd took to grazing on coward [F#m] grass claimed [E] by old [A] Stumble and Otter.
[F#m] Wigdoss, mid-chief, you're a cause of me [D] grief, you're a [E] master [A] of extortion.
[F#m] Only the Kiowa man [A] said to cross his land [D] he would [E] require a [A] fair portion
[F#m] of the merchandise.
[A] There's the Kiowa price [E] for the grazing [A] of his grasses.
Stumble and Otter drove [F#m] a rock-hard barter with [E] all would [A]-be trespassers.
_ _ Oh, Wigdoss just flustered and [F#] cussed as we watched him [A] get more irate.
Swore he'd never do business with [F#m] this ornery [A] prairie pirate.
As the two old buzzards haggled I [E] pondered how this would [A] affect us.
Then old Wigdoss said, come [F#m] on boys, [E] we're going [A] back to Texas.
[F#m] Every [A] bovine thought we'd lost our [D] mind as we [E] turned them [A] towards the river.
[F#m] Wigdoss cried, [A] I didn't make this [D] drive [E] only [A] to deliver
[F#m] even one beef to a Kiowa chief.
[D] These [E] longhorns are [A] Wigdoss's.
For a payin' tax [F#m] I'll take them all back down [E] to Texas and [A] count my losses.
[F] _ [A#] So across Red River it backtracks [Gm] south across the [A#] Lone Star Plains.
When we reached the friars in Waco [Gm] town the home fires [A#] burned again.
We politely asked old Mr.
Doss could we please draw our wages?
As the purple rose around his [Gm] neck [F] he flew into [A#] one of his [Gm] rages.
I ain't [A#] about to give you [D#] louts one [F] measly [A#] copper penny.
[Gm] It was understood [A#] that you boys [D#] would get [F] paid when the drive was [Gm] finished.
Well here we be [A#] and you can see [D#] we're a long [A#] ways from Dot City.
You've got your pluck but you're out of luck [F] I'm the man [A#] that deserves pity.
_ Then something inside me snapped [Gm] apart like a fiddle [A#] string a-breaking.
I kicked that crutch out from under his [Gm] arm and he began [A#] to quaking.
Before he wilted plumb to the ground [Gm] I fastened all [A#] my fingers
around his goozle with all [Gm] my grip [F] not thinking [A#] of the danger.
[Gm] Next thing I knew I was a-coming [D#] to in [F] an old [A#] familiar setting.
[Gm] Bars on the [A#] door and a damp dirt [D#] floor and an [F] old cot [A#] for my bedding.
[Gm] A pain so [A#] dull neat the knot of my [D#] skull a [F] feeling [A#] like a failure.
You're one sad sack but welcome back [F] were the words [A#] of the Waco jailer.
_ The moral of my story [Gm] is be careful [A#] with your wishing.
I'm back at home in my cozy [Gm] cell but it ain't [A#] like it envisioned.
Well call it misfortune call it bad luck [Gm] or [F] just call it fate.
[Dm] I'm sharing my six by [A#] nine foot space [F] with Wick Joss as my [A#] cellmate.
_ [D#] _ _ _ _ [A#] _ _ _ _ _