The Singing Scoutmaster: Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I Gwoke up Sunday morning

With no Cway to hold my Dhead that didn't Ghurt

And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't Embad

So I had one more for Ddessert D7

Then I Gfumbled in my closet through my Cclothes

And found my cleanest dirty Gshirt Em

Then I Cwashed my face and Dcombed my hair

And Cstumbled down the Dstairs to meet the D7day

I'd Gsmoked my mind the night before

With Ccigarettes and Dsongs I'd been Gpicking

But I lit my first and watched a small kid

EmPlaying with a can that he was Dkicking D7

Then I Gwalked across the street

And caught the CSunday smell of someone Gfrying chicken Em

And Lord, it Ctook me back to D7something

that I'd Clost somewhere, some Dhow along the Gway

On a GSunday morning Csidewalk

I'm wishing, Lord, that I was Gstoned

'Cause there's something in a DSunday D7

That makes a body feel a-Glone

And there's G7nothing short a' Cdying

That's half as lone-some as the G sound

Of the sleeping city Dsidewalk

And Sunday morning coming Gdown

In the Gpark I saw a daddy

With a Claughing little Dgirl that he was Gswinging

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

And Emlistened to the songs they were Dsinging D7

Then I Gheaded down the street

And somewhere Cfar away a lonely bell was Gringing Em

And it Cechoed through the D7canyons

Like the Cdisappearing D7dreams of Gyesterday

On a GSunday morning Csidewalk

I'm wishing, Lord, that I was Gstoned

'Cause there's something in a DSunday D7

That makes a body feel a-Glone

And there's G7nothing short a' Cdying

That's half as lone-some as the G sound

Of the sleeping city Dsidewalk

And Sunday morning coming Gdown