tom waits version of a kinky friedman song , simple , easy and fun
from ’the book of moses’ cd i picked up some place
sounds good played banjo style , or , you know , . . . . on a banjo
highway cafe * capo 1st fret *
D
well she was only a waitress in a highway cafe
A
poured coffee from dusk until dawn
A
but she’s heartbroken twenty – four hours a day
D
for she longed for a trucker who’d gone
D A
will you make it a corned beef on rye , he’d sing with a gleam in his eye
A G
oh the headlights were burnin’ , and the big wheels were turnin’
G A D
her sweetheart would come by and by
D
he’d park his great semi off route 64
A
she’d rush with a sweet little sigh
A
for at half past eleven , he’d walk in the door
D
and order a corned beef on rye
D A
will you make it a corned beef on rye , he’d sing with a gleam in her eye
A G
oh the jukebox was blarin’ an’ her soft eyes were starin’
G A D
and the corned beef would come by and by
D
all the drivers remember that night so they say
A
she’d said her farewells to them all
A
ah when the hands on the clock reached a quarter past twelve
D
her suitcase still stood in the hall
( spoken ) D
and the hours they passed by , even as the trucks passed by on the highway
A
and two grim highway patrolmen came into the place
and they shook the rain from their hats
and as the poor girl brought ’em their coffee
D
these are the words that that they said
D
’hey curley , you see that old diesel flattened out like your
A
damned nose up by the predicament tonight?’
A
’hell , he jack – knifed that son of a bitch slicker ’n’ owl shit’
D
’i’ll have a chilli dog over here baby’
D
’hell , you don’t suppose he had him a little hog
A
way on down the line someplace , do ya?’
A
’hey now curley , don’t you know them damn truckers
D
they got a little filly in every cafe from here to los cruces’ ha – ha – ha – ha
D
now there is a small truck – stop off route 64
A
if you happen to be passin’ by
A
there’s a trucker that never stops in anymore
D
there’s a waitress that wished she knew why
D A
oh make it a corned beef on rye , she’d sing with a tear in her eye
A G
and her dark eyes are glistenin’ and someone is listenin’
G A D
in that highway cafe in the sky x 2
tom waits version of a kinky friedman song , simple , easy and fun
from ’the book of moses’ cd i picked up some place
sounds good played banjo style , or , you know , . . . . on a banjo
highway cafe * capo 1st fret *
D
well she was only a waitress in a highway cafe
A
poured coffee from dusk until dawn
A
but she’s heartbroken twenty – four hours a day
D
for she longed for a trucker who’d gone
D A
will you make it a corned beef on rye , he’d sing with a gleam in his eye
A G
oh the headlights were burnin’ , and the big wheels were turnin’
G A D
her sweetheart would come by and by
D
he’d park his great semi off route 64
A
she’d rush with a sweet little sigh
A
for at half past eleven , he’d walk in the door
D
and order a corned beef on rye
D A
will you make it a corned beef on rye , he’d sing with a gleam in her eye
A G
oh the jukebox was blarin’ an’ her soft eyes were starin’
G A D
and the corned beef would come by and by
D
all the drivers remember that night so they say
A
she’d said her farewells to them all
A
ah when the hands on the clock reached a quarter past twelve
D
her suitcase still stood in the hall
( spoken ) D
and the hours they passed by , even as the trucks passed by on the highway
A
and two grim highway patrolmen came into the place
and they shook the rain from their hats
and as the poor girl brought ’em their coffee
D
these are the words that that they said
D
’hey curley , you see that old diesel flattened out like your
A
damned nose up by the predicament tonight?’
A
’hell , he jack – knifed that son of a bitch slicker ’n’ owl shit’
D
’i’ll have a chilli dog over here baby’
D
’hell , you don’t suppose he had him a little hog
A
way on down the line someplace , do ya?’
A
’hey now curley , don’t you know them damn truckers
D
they got a little filly in every cafe from here to los cruces’ ha – ha – ha – ha
D
now there is a small truck – stop off route 64
A
if you happen to be passin’ by
A
there’s a trucker that never stops in anymore
D
there’s a waitress that wished she knew why
D A
oh make it a corned beef on rye , she’d sing with a tear in her eye
A G
and her dark eyes are glistenin’ and someone is listenin’
G A D
in that highway cafe in the sky x 2
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