Tunes
Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: D
fiddle tune
Key: D
Fiddle tune!
Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: G
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Key: G
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Key: G
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: D
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Key: G
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Key: G
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: G
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Key: A
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Key: G
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Key: D
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Key: A
Cluck old hen cluck and sing
You ain’t laid an egg since late last spring
Cluck old hen cluck and squall
Ain’t laid an egg since late last fall
Cluck old hen cluck when I tell you
Cluck old hen or I’m gonna sell you
Last time she cackled cackled in the lot
Next time she cackles cackle in the pot
My old hen she’s a good old hen
She lays eggs for the railroad men
Sometimes 1 sometimes two
Sometimes enough for the whole damn crew
Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: A
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Key: A
fiddle tune, sort of modal-y
Key: D
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Key: A
It was early in April,
Not many weeks ago,
The people of this fair city
All gathered at the show.
The war it is all over,
The people happy now,
And Abraham Lincoln arose,
Arose to make his bow;
The people cheer him wildly,
Arising to their feet,
And Lincoln waving of his hand,
He calmly takes his seat.
And while he sees the play go on,
His thoughts are running deep,
His darling wife, close by his side,
Has fallen fast asleep.
From the box there hangs a flag,
It's not the Stars and Bars,
The flag that holds within its folds
Bright gleaming stripes and stars.
John Wilkes Booth he moves down the aisle,
He had measured once before,
He passes Lincoln's bodyguard
A-nodding at the door.
He holds a dagger in his right hand,
A pistol in his left,
He shoots poor Lincoln in the temple,
And he sends his soul to rest.
The wife awakes from slumber,
And screams in her rage,
Booth jumps over the railing
And lands him on the stage.
He'll rue the day, he'll rue the hour,
As God him life shall give,
When Booth stood in that center stage,
Crying, "Tyrants shall not live!"
The people all excited
Then cried everyone, "A hand!"
Cried all the people near,
"For God's sake, save that man!"
Then Booth ran back with boot and spurs
Across the backstage floor,
He mounts that trusty claybank mare,
All saddled at the door.
John Wilkes Booth, in his last play,
All dressed in broadcloth deep,
He gallops down the alleyway,
I hear those horses feet.
Poor Lincoln then was heard to say,
And all has gone to rest,
"Of all the actors in this town,
I loved Booth the best."
Tunes
Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: D
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Key: A
Wake up Charlie let’s go home…
Dance all night with a bottle in my hand…
Key: D
No chord chart available.
Key: C
Now I wonder how a dance like the Tennessee Waltz
Could have broken my heart so complete
Well I couldn't blame my darlin', and who could help fallin'
In love with my darlin' so sweet
Well it must be the fault of the Tennessee Waltz
Wish I'd known just how much it would cost
But I didn't see it commin', it's all over but the cryin'
Blame it all on the Tennessee Waltz
She goes dancin' with the darkness to the Tennessee Waltz
and I feel like I'm falling apart
and it's stronger than drink and it's deeper than sorrow
this darkness she left in my heart