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Mississippi Sawyer by Molasses Creek
Mississippi Sawyer
Tuning: E A D G B E
[Intro]
| D | G | D | G |
[Solo]
| D | G | D | G |
| D | G | D | G |
| D | G | D | G |
| D | G | D | G |
[Verse 1]
D
On the western bank of some backwater town
G
Some of us boys would sit around
D
and listen to old Joe saw away
G
on a dusty ol' fiddle he loved to play
D
stories he told with every song
G
about a river life before the crowds came along
D
pinin' away for the days of yore,
A
when he could make a livin' up and down the shore
[Chorus]
Bm G
Days were hard, road got rough
A
turned in his papers, and he'd had enough
Bm G A (hold)
but late at night, an all alone, those old times shone
N.C. D
Mississippi Sawyer
[Break]
| G | D | G A D |
[Verse 2]
D
When the Mississippi Sawyer first poled aground
G
the only work that could be found
D
was clearing land near the Windsor place
G
he borrowed mules, he set the pace
D
worked pretty hard for twenty-some days
G
burnin' brush and cuttin' hay
D
ol' Smith Daniels had him paid
G
and he loaded his pack and was on his way
[Chorus]
Bm G
rain was scarce, river dry
A
not enough water yet to float him high
Bm G
so he pitched his camp and stayed a while
A ( D
drifter style -- as the Mississippi Sawyer
[Break]
| G | D | G A D |
| D | G | D | G A D |
[Verse 3]
D
Civil war brought harder times
G
the blue and grey both worked the line
D
of that magic road that ever flowed
G A
from the frozen north to the gulf below
F#m
old Joe managed to squeeze on through
G
with a twinkle in his eye, and a 'How do you do?'
D
offering a free dance or two
G A
for lonesome grey and homesick blues
[Chorus]
Bm G
Dangerous times in '63
A
Port Gibson fell and he thought to flee
Bm G A (hold)
but General Grant called for a ball, Joe answered the call-
D
as the Mississippi Sawyer
[Solo]
| G | D | G A D |
| D | G | D | G A D |
| Bm | G | A | A |
| Bm | G | A |
[Verse 4]
D
Well the taller we grew, the older Joe got
G
Rheumatism struck, fiddlin' stopped
D
Sadly he tucked ol' Bess away
G A
'Til he called me down that fresh spring day
F#m
'Son, though my playing days are through,
G
I've one more gift to pass on to you
D
looks like you're ready to fly
G A
And a boy with a fiddle will always get by
[Chorus]
Bm G
When times are hard and the road gets tough
A
and you can't scrape together enough
Bm G A
line your pockets with gold from the tunes of old
[Solo]
| D | G | D | A D |
| D | G | D | A D |
| Bm | G | A | A |
| Bm | G | A | A |
| D | G | D | A D |
| D | G | D | A D |
| Bm | G | A | A |
| Bm | G | A | A |
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