Cherokee Fiddle Michael Martin Murphey
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Cherokee Fiddle" от Michael Martin Murphey. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.
When the train pulled in to the station
He rolled up his sleeves, rosined up his bow
He fiddle upside down, Orange Blossom Special
If you want to make a living, you've got to put on a good show
When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
Slicked his hair back, opened up his case
Played Cherokee Fiddle, played for the whiskey
Good whiskey never let him lose his place
He was always there, playing for the miners
Devil's Dream was a tune they all understood
Then he'd go back to Oklahoma
Wait till the trains was a runnin' and the weather was good
When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
Slicked his hair back, opened up his case
Played Cherokee Fiddle, just played for the whiskey
Good whiskey never let him lose his place
Now the Indians, all dressed like cowboys
All the cowboys are puttin' leather and turquoise on
And all the music is sold by the lawyers
And the fools who fiddled in the middle of the stations are gone
Some folks say they'll never miss them
Fiddle screeched like the engine breaks
Cherokee Fiddle, gone forever
Like the music that the whistle on an old locomotive make
He rolled up his sleeves, rosined up his bow
He fiddle upside down, Orange Blossom Special
If you want to make a living, you've got to put on a good show
When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
Slicked his hair back, opened up his case
Played Cherokee Fiddle, played for the whiskey
Good whiskey never let him lose his place
He was always there, playing for the miners
Devil's Dream was a tune they all understood
Then he'd go back to Oklahoma
Wait till the trains was a runnin' and the weather was good
When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
Slicked his hair back, opened up his case
Played Cherokee Fiddle, just played for the whiskey
Good whiskey never let him lose his place
Now the Indians, all dressed like cowboys
All the cowboys are puttin' leather and turquoise on
And all the music is sold by the lawyers
And the fools who fiddled in the middle of the stations are gone
Some folks say they'll never miss them
Fiddle screeched like the engine breaks
Cherokee Fiddle, gone forever
Like the music that the whistle on an old locomotive make
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