Tom: Eb
Bb7 Eb9
A cab combs the snake,
Bb7 Eb9
Tryin' to rake in that last night's fare,
Bb7
And a solitary sailor
Am7 D7
Who spends the facts of his life like small change on strangers...
Bb7 Eb9
Paws his inside P-coat pocket for a welcome twenty-five cents,
Bb7 Eb9
And the last bent butt from a package of Kents,
Bb7
As he dreams of a waitress with Maxwell House eyes
Am7 D7
And marmalade thighs with scrambled yellow hair.
Bb7 Eb9
Her rhinestone-studded moniker says, "Irene"
Bb7 Eb9 Bb7
As she wipes the wisps of dishwater blonde from her eyes
Am7 D7
Bb7 Eb9
And the Texaco beacon burns on,
Bb7 Eb9 Bb7
The steel-belted attendant with a 'Ring and Valve Special'...
Am7
Cryin' "Fill'er up and check that oil"
D7
"You know it could be a distributor and it could be a coil."
Bb7 Eb9
The early mornin' final edition's on the stands,
Bb7 Eb9
And that town cryer's cryin' there with nickels in his hands.
Bb7 Am7 D7
Pigs in a blanket sixty-nine cents,
Bb7 Eb9
Eggs - roll 'em over and a package of Kents,
Bb7 Eb9 Bb7
Adam and Eve on a log, you can sink 'em damn straight,
Am7 D7
Hash browns, hash browns, you know I can't be late.
Bb7 Eb9
And the early dawn cracks out a carpet of diamond
Bb7 Eb9
Across a cash crop car lot filled with twilight Coupe Devilles,
Am7
Leaving the town in a-keeping
D7
Of the one who is sweeping
Bb7 Eb9 Outro
Up the ghost of Saturday night...
