Woodrow
Tom Russell BandVersion1
90
Chords in this song
Strum
D-DU-UDU
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
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
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
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Readable chord sheet for Woodrow by Tom Russell Band
When [C]people twist your [G]words, Woodrow, ah, they'll [C]twist at every [Em]whim
It's [G]thugs that run the [C]unions now and [G]use your songs like [Em]hymns
Once, your [C]music danced on [G]women's thighs and the arch of a hobo's
[Em]brow-[D]ow
Aw, [C]Mrs. Guthrie look [G]what they done to your [C]brown-eyed [D]baby [G]now
Oh, the [C]trains leave every [G]morning, some go [C]east and some go [Em]west
And the [G]clacking of the [C]iron is the [G]sound you love the [Em]best
It's the [C]great escape from [G]railroad bulls and the Coney Island [Em]girl[D]s
Aw, [C]Mrs. Guthrie, look [G]what we done to your [C]brown eyed [D]boy with [G]curls
Sing the [Em]truth, scream it [G]loud (2nd time: sing it loud)
Aw, [C]Mrs. Guthrie, look [G]what they done to your [C]brown-eyed [D]baby [G]now
(2nd time: we done)
All those [C]boxcars full of [G]Chinese junk, the [C]caboose has been junk [Em]piled
And we're [G]all buying g[C]roceries now from [G]men with crooked [Em]smiles
You were a [C]drunken, wild mis[G]ogyneer and your politics were [Em]crud[D]e
As you s[C]at home writing [G]nursery rhymes and [C]drawing [D]women [G]nude
And [C]all those politicians [G]breaths stink bad, be they [C]left or be they
[Em]right
And the [G]ones who play with [C]rhetoric are not the [G]ones to [Em]fight
Don't go [C]coming 'round here, [G]Woodrow, they'll stretch you from a [Em]rope[D]
And your [C]corpse won't ever [G]find a bar where a [C]man can [D]drink and [G]smoke
Repeat Chorus
chorus)
[C]Did you hear the scre[G]en door sl[C]am, Ma, Woodrow'[Em]s gone again
He's [G]writin' obscene [C]letters now, the [G]Feds might bring him [Em]in
But [C]every song he [G]ever wrote is hangin' on the [Em]bree[D]ze
With the l[C]aundry in the [G]Guthrie yard full of [C]Hunting[D]ton's dis[G]ease
So, [C]Woodrow, rest in [G]peace, old pal, there ain't [C]nothin' for you [Em]here
We're [G]in the scrub oak [C]country now, the [G]land of dread an' [Em]fear
And [C]whitey's in the wood pile and the [G]writing's on the [Em]wall[D]
But your [C]ring of truth still [G]echoes down the [C]Greystone [D]clinic [G]hall
Repeat Chorus
So [C]here's to all outsiders, all the [G]ones who [C]could not [Em]fit
The [G]troubadour, the [C]prisoners, the [G]drunken Ind[Em]ian
Ah, the [C]circus freaks, the wounded lovers will [G]make it through [Em]someh[D]ow
Ah, [C]Mrs. Guthrie, we are [G]ridin' blind with your [C]brown eyed [D]baby [G]now
Sing the [Em]truth scream it [G]loud
Ah, [C]Mrs. Guthrie, look [G]what we done to your [C]brown-eyed [D]baby [G]now
Sing the [Em]truth, scream it l[G]oud
Ah, [C]Mrs. Guthrie, look w[G]hat we done to your [C]brown-eyed b[D]aby n[G]ow