Mipso - Rocking chair blues

I was ^Fborn in the country and raised in the ^Bbtown I spent every ^FSunday ^Cwandering ^Dmaround I ^Fraised lots of cane till my momma would ^Bbcry She prayed my ^Fharvest would wither and ^Dmdie ^BbWither and die, Lord, ^Cwither and ^Fdie

These ^Bbslow-going highways and red-running river I ^Fchoose The ^Bbsong of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to ^Flose Every ^Cstep off the front porch is a ^Bbstep into rocking chair ^Fblues

I ^Fwent down to Oxford to find me some ^Bbblues I measure the ^Fmiles by ^Choles in my ^Dmshoes I l^Fisten for autumn and followed the ^Bbsound And left off t^Fhe things that fell to the ^Dmground ^BbFell to the ground, Lord, ^Cfell to the ^Fground

These ^Bbslow-going highways and red-running river I ^Fchoose The ^Bbsong of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to ^Flose Every ^Cstep off the front porch is a ^Bbstep into rocking chair ^Fblues

^Gm7If I wandered away would you call me ^Fback? 'Cause I^G'm already ^Cgone ^GmI'm drifting astray and humming the ^Ghighway ^Cmsong I was ^Fborn in the country and raised in the ^Bbtown I spent every ^FSunday ^Cwandering ^Dmaround ^BbWandering around, Lord, ^Cwandering ^Faround