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Woodrow Tab

by Tom Russell Band


Woodrow	
Tom Russell
Capo 5    Intro:  G

                                                               
When people twist your words, Woodrow, ah, they'll twist at every whim
                                                        
It's thugs that run the unions now and use your songs like hymns
                                                                    
Once, your music danced on women's thighs and the arch of a hobo's 
   
brow-ow
                                                         
Aw, Mrs. Guthrie look what they done to your brown-eyed baby now

                                                          
Oh, the trains leave every morning, some go east and some go west
                                                    
And the clacking of the iron is the sound you love the best
                                                               
It's the great escape from railroad bulls and the Coney Island girls
                                                            
Aw, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we done to your brown eyed boy with curls

Chorus:
                         
Sing the truth, scream  it loud        (2nd time: sing it loud)
                                                                   
Aw, Mrs. Guthrie, look what they done to your brown-eyed baby now
                   (2nd time: we done)

                                                               
All those boxcars full of Chinese junk, the caboose has been junk piled
                                                      
And we're all buying groceries now from men with crooked smiles
                                                           
You were a drunken, wild misogyneer and your politics were crude
                                                     
As you sat home writing nursery rhymes and drawing women nude

                                                                  
And all those politicians breaths stink bad, be they left or be they 

right
                                                     
And the ones who play with rhetoric are not the ones to fight
                                                                 
Don't go coming 'round here, Woodrow, they'll stretch you from a rope
                                                            
And your corpse won't ever find a bar where a man can drink and smoke

Repeat Chorus

Instrumental (chorus)

        
                                            
Did you hear the screen door slam, Ma, Woodrow's gone again
                                                        
He's writin' obscene letters now, the Feds might bring him in
                                               
But every song he ever wrote is hangin' on the breeze
                                                         
With the laundry in the Guthrie yard full of Huntington's disease


                                                              
So, Woodrow, rest in peace, old pal, there ain't nothin' for you here
                                                       
We're in the scrub oak country now, the land of dread an' fear
                                                       
And whitey's in the wood pile and the writing's on the wall
                                                          
But your ring of truth still echoes down the Greystone clinic hall

Repeat Chorus

                                                    
So here's to all outsiders, all the ones who could not fit
                                           
The troubadour, the prisoners, the drunken Indian
                                                                
Ah, the circus freaks, the wounded lovers will make it through somehow
                                                            
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, we are ridin' blind with your brown eyed baby now

                       
Sing the truth scream it loud
                                                          
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we done to your brown-eyed baby now
                         
Sing the truth, scream it loud
                                                           
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we done to your brown-eyed baby now