From: email@example.com (Roy M. Randall)
Subject: CRD: Up On Cripple Creek - The Band
UP ON CRIPPLE CREEK
When I get off of this mountain, you know where I want to go?
A D E
Straight down the Mississippi River to the Gulf of Mexico.
To Lake Charles, Louisianna, little Bessie, a girl who I once knew.
A D E
She told me just to come on by if there's anything that she could do.
Up on Cripple Creek, she sends me.
If I spring a leak, she mends me.
I don't have to speak, she defends me.
A drunkard's dream if I ever did see one.
Good luck had just stung me, to the race track I did go.
She bet on one horse to win and I bet on another to show.
The odds were in my favor, I had them five to one.
That nag to win came around the track, sure enough she had won.
I took up all of my winnings and I gave little Bessie half.
She tore it up and threw it in my face just for a laugh.
There's one thing in the whole wide world I sure would like to see.
That's when that little love of mine dips her doughnut in my tea.
Me and my mate we were back at the shack, we had Spike Jones on the box.
She says, "I can't take the way he sings, but I love to hear him talk."
Now that just gave my heart a throb to the bottom of my feet.
And I swore as I took another pull, my Bessie can't be beat.
|:A |D |A |D :|
There's a flood out in California and up north it's freezing cold.
And this living on the road is getting pretty old.
So I guess I'll call up my big mama, tell her I'll be rolling in.
But you know, deep down, I'm kind of tempted
To go and see my Bessie again.
Roy M. Randall, FG |
Inconsequential Systems, Inc. | TREES?! YUCK! I HATE TREES!
Submitted by OptimusPrime at Wed 14 Nov, 2001 4:09 am