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My Head Hurts My Feet Stink And I Don't Love Jesus by Jimmy Buffett



        My Head Hurts My Feet Stink And I Don't Love Jesus



Capo:no capo

Chorus:
 
G	                  A                         C	   G
My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus (oh my lordy it's that...) 
               A
It's that kind of mornin'
C		  D
Really was that kind of night 
C		  		   G	         Em
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
         A	        		A7	         D		D7        G
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night 
 
 
		      D			
Went down to the snake pit 
             G
To drink a little beer
         D
Listen to the jukebox
                     G
Merle was comin' in clear 
Em
All of a sudden I wad'n alone 
A
Pickin' country music with ol' Joe Bones
D
Duval Street was rockin' 
D7
My eyes they starting poppin' 
 
                Em
Because there she sat at the corner of the bar 
       A
As I broke another string on my ol' guitar 
D
Someone call a cab 
D7
Lady won'tcha pay my tab 
 
Chorus:
And now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus
(oh my lordy it's that...)
It's that kinda mornin'
Really was that kinda night
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night
 
Gotta get a little orange juice
And a Darvon for my head
I can't spend all day
Baby layin' in the bed
 
I'm goin' down to Fausto's get some chocolate milk
Can't spend my life in yer sheets of silk
I've got to find my way
Crawl out and greet the day
 
Chorus:
But now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus
(oh my lordy it's that...)
It's that kinda mornin'
Really was that kinda night
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night
 
Let me tell ya, I be roarin' Friday night
I mean I'll be
Roarin'
Friday





------------------

version 2 




Tuning:E A D G B E
Capo:no capo

[Intro]
Em   A7   D   G
Em   A7   D   G
 
 
 
[Chorus]
G                 A7                C          G
My head hurts, my feet stink,_and I don't love Je-sus,
                  A7                C                D
It's that kind of morn-in', real-ly was that kind of night._
C                                   G       B7    Em       Em7
Try'n to tell my-self_  that my con-di-tion is im-provin', and if
A7                                 C        D      G
I don't die_  by Thurs-day I'll be roar-in' Fri-day night.
 
 
[Verse]
                 D                                 G
Went down to the snake pit,    to drink a  lit-tle beer._
                 D                               G
Lis-tened to the juke box,  oh it's com-in'  in  clear.
Em
All of a sud-den I was-n't a - lone
A7
Pick-in' coun-try mu-sic with old_ Joe Bones.__
D
Du-val Street_ was rock - in',  my
D7
Eyes they start - ed  pop - pin'! Be-cause
Em
There she sat at the cor-ner of the bar, as I
A7
Broke an-oth-er string on my ol' gui-tar.__
D
Some-one call a cab.__
D7
La-dy, won'tcha pay my tab?  Now my...
 
 
[Chorus]
G                 A7                C          G
My head hurts, my feet stink,_and I don't love Je-sus,
                  A7                C                D
It's that kind of morn-in', real-ly was that kind of night._
C                                   G       B7    Em       Em7
Try'n to tell my-self_  that my con-di-tion is im-provin', and if
A7                                 C        D      G
I don't die_  by Thurs-day I'll be roar-in' Fri-day night.
 
 
 
[Verse]
                 D                                        G
Gotta  get a lit-tle or-ange juice,  and a Dar-von for my head._
                 D                               G
I can't spend all  day,     ba-by lay-in' in the bed.
Em
I'm go-in' down to Bousto's to get some chocolate milk,
A7
Can't spend my life in your sheets of silk.__
D
I-ve got to find my way,
D7
Cra-wl out and greet__ the day.
 
[Chorus]
G                 A7                C          G
My head hurts, my feet stink,_and I don't love Je-sus,
                  A7                C                D
It's that kind of morn-in', real-ly was that kind of night._
C                                   G       B7    Em       Em7
Try'n to tell my-self_  that my con-di-tion is im-provin', and if
A7                                 C        D      G
I don't die_  by Thurs-day I'll be roar-in' Fri-day night, lem - me tell ya,
 
 
[Outro]
        C        D       G
I'll be roar-in' Fri-day night, I mean I'll be
C           D         G6
Roar - in'  Fri - day night.






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