Dying Crapshooters Blues Chords by Blind Willie Mctell
Tempo:
79.2 bpm
Chords used:
F#m
C#
A
F#
G#
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[F#m] [C#]
[F#m] [Am] Little Jesse was a gambler, [C#] night and day, while he used crooked [F#m] cards and dice.
[A] A simple guy, get [C#] hurted, but had no soul.
Heart was hard and [F#m] cold like ice.
[A] Jesse was a wild, reckless gambler.
[C#] He won a gang of change, and a many gamblers heart he led in [F#m] pain.
When he began to spend and lose his money, [C#] he began to be blue and all alone.
But boy, his heart had even [F#] turned to [F#m] stone.
What broke [C#] Jesse's heart, while he was blue and all alone?
Sweet Loreen had packed up [F#m] and gone.
Police walked up and [C#] shot my friend Jesse down.
Boy, they got a dead of [F#m] day.
He had a gang of crap [G#] shooters and gallant at his bedside.
But here are the words he had to [F#m] say.
I [Am] guess I ought to know, exactly [A] how I want to go.
How you want to go, Jesse?
Eight crap shooters to be my pallbearers.
[C#] Let them be veiled out [F#m] in black.
[A] I want nine men going to the [F#m] graveyard, buddy, [C#] and eight men coming back.
[D#] I want the gang of gamblers [G#] gathered around my coving side.
A crooked [B] card printed [F#m] on my hearse.
Don't [D#m] say the crap shooter's another grave over me.
My live bandy dog gone curse.
[A#] Send poker players [F#m] to the graveyard.
[C#] Dig my grave [F#m] with the ace of spades.
I want twelve police in my funeral march.
[C#] I shall have playing blackjack lead the parade.
[G#] I want the judge and solicitor who jailed me fourteen times.
Put a pile of dice [F#m] in my shoes, and what else?
[A] Let a deck of cards be my tombstone, buddy.
I got the dying crap shooters blues.
[F#m] [A] Sixteen real good crap shooters.
Sixteen [A#] bootleggers to [C#] sing a song.
[F#m] Sixteen racket men gambling.
Cover [C#] ten bars while I'm [F#m] rolling along.
[A] He wanted twenty-two women [F#m] out of the Hampton Hotel.
[B] Twenty-six off [C#] of South Bell.
[F#m] Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta.
No, [C#] little Jesse didn't pass [F#m] out so swell.
His head was aching, heart was thumping.
Little Jesse went down, bouncing and jumping.
Folks don't be [C#] standing around Jesse crying.
[F#] He wants everybody to do Charleston whilst he [F#m] die.
One foot up in a toenail dragging.
[A] Throw my friend Jesse in the hoodoo wagon.
Call me a mama with that [F#] can of booze.
Dying crap [A] shooters blues, I [B] mean.
The dying [E] crap shooters
[F#m] [Am] Little Jesse was a gambler, [C#] night and day, while he used crooked [F#m] cards and dice.
[A] A simple guy, get [C#] hurted, but had no soul.
Heart was hard and [F#m] cold like ice.
[A] Jesse was a wild, reckless gambler.
[C#] He won a gang of change, and a many gamblers heart he led in [F#m] pain.
When he began to spend and lose his money, [C#] he began to be blue and all alone.
But boy, his heart had even [F#] turned to [F#m] stone.
What broke [C#] Jesse's heart, while he was blue and all alone?
Sweet Loreen had packed up [F#m] and gone.
Police walked up and [C#] shot my friend Jesse down.
Boy, they got a dead of [F#m] day.
He had a gang of crap [G#] shooters and gallant at his bedside.
But here are the words he had to [F#m] say.
I [Am] guess I ought to know, exactly [A] how I want to go.
How you want to go, Jesse?
Eight crap shooters to be my pallbearers.
[C#] Let them be veiled out [F#m] in black.
[A] I want nine men going to the [F#m] graveyard, buddy, [C#] and eight men coming back.
[D#] I want the gang of gamblers [G#] gathered around my coving side.
A crooked [B] card printed [F#m] on my hearse.
Don't [D#m] say the crap shooter's another grave over me.
My live bandy dog gone curse.
[A#] Send poker players [F#m] to the graveyard.
[C#] Dig my grave [F#m] with the ace of spades.
I want twelve police in my funeral march.
[C#] I shall have playing blackjack lead the parade.
[G#] I want the judge and solicitor who jailed me fourteen times.
Put a pile of dice [F#m] in my shoes, and what else?
[A] Let a deck of cards be my tombstone, buddy.
I got the dying crap shooters blues.
[F#m] [A] Sixteen real good crap shooters.
Sixteen [A#] bootleggers to [C#] sing a song.
[F#m] Sixteen racket men gambling.
Cover [C#] ten bars while I'm [F#m] rolling along.
[A] He wanted twenty-two women [F#m] out of the Hampton Hotel.
[B] Twenty-six off [C#] of South Bell.
[F#m] Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta.
No, [C#] little Jesse didn't pass [F#m] out so swell.
His head was aching, heart was thumping.
Little Jesse went down, bouncing and jumping.
Folks don't be [C#] standing around Jesse crying.
[F#] He wants everybody to do Charleston whilst he [F#m] die.
One foot up in a toenail dragging.
[A] Throw my friend Jesse in the hoodoo wagon.
Call me a mama with that [F#] can of booze.
Dying crap [A] shooters blues, I [B] mean.
The dying [E] crap shooters
Key:
F#m
C#
A
F#
G#
F#m
C#
A
_ _ _ [F#m] _ _ _ [C#] _ _
_ _ [F#m] _ _ [Am] Little Jesse was a gambler, [C#] night and day, while he used crooked [F#m] cards and dice.
_ [A] A simple guy, get [C#] hurted, but had no soul.
Heart was hard and [F#m] cold like ice.
_ [A] Jesse was a wild, reckless gambler.
[C#] He won a gang of change, and a many gamblers heart he led in [F#m] pain. _ _
When he began to spend and lose his money, [C#] he began to be blue and all alone.
But boy, his heart had even [F#] turned to [F#m] stone. _
What broke [C#] Jesse's heart, while he was blue and all alone?
Sweet Loreen had packed up [F#m] and gone.
Police walked up and [C#] shot my friend Jesse down.
Boy, they got a dead of [F#m] day.
He had a gang of crap [G#] shooters and gallant at his bedside.
But here are the words he had to [F#m] say.
I [Am] guess I ought to know, exactly [A] how I want to go.
How you want to go, Jesse?
Eight crap shooters to be my pallbearers.
[C#] Let them be veiled out [F#m] in black.
[A] I want nine men going to the [F#m] graveyard, buddy, [C#] and eight men coming back.
[D#] I want the gang of gamblers [G#] gathered around my coving side.
A crooked [B] card printed [F#m] on my hearse.
Don't [D#m] say the crap shooter's another grave over me.
My live bandy dog gone curse.
[A#] Send poker players [F#m] to the graveyard.
[C#] Dig my grave [F#m] with the ace of spades.
I want twelve police in my funeral march.
[C#] I shall have playing blackjack lead the parade.
[G#] I want the judge and solicitor who jailed me fourteen times.
Put a pile of dice [F#m] in my shoes, and what else?
[A] Let a deck of cards be my tombstone, buddy.
I got the dying crap shooters blues.
_ [F#m] _ _ [A] Sixteen real good crap shooters.
Sixteen [A#] bootleggers to [C#] sing a song.
_ [F#m] Sixteen racket men gambling.
Cover [C#] ten bars while I'm [F#m] rolling along.
[A] He wanted twenty-two women [F#m] out of the Hampton Hotel.
[B] Twenty-six off [C#] of South Bell.
[F#m] Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta.
No, [C#] little Jesse didn't pass [F#m] out so swell.
His head was aching, heart was thumping.
Little Jesse went down, bouncing and jumping.
Folks don't be [C#] standing around Jesse crying.
[F#] He wants everybody to do Charleston whilst he [F#m] die.
One foot up in a toenail dragging.
[A] Throw my friend Jesse in the hoodoo wagon.
Call me a mama with that [F#] can of booze.
Dying crap [A] shooters blues, I [B] mean.
The dying [E] crap shooters
_ _ [F#m] _ _ [Am] Little Jesse was a gambler, [C#] night and day, while he used crooked [F#m] cards and dice.
_ [A] A simple guy, get [C#] hurted, but had no soul.
Heart was hard and [F#m] cold like ice.
_ [A] Jesse was a wild, reckless gambler.
[C#] He won a gang of change, and a many gamblers heart he led in [F#m] pain. _ _
When he began to spend and lose his money, [C#] he began to be blue and all alone.
But boy, his heart had even [F#] turned to [F#m] stone. _
What broke [C#] Jesse's heart, while he was blue and all alone?
Sweet Loreen had packed up [F#m] and gone.
Police walked up and [C#] shot my friend Jesse down.
Boy, they got a dead of [F#m] day.
He had a gang of crap [G#] shooters and gallant at his bedside.
But here are the words he had to [F#m] say.
I [Am] guess I ought to know, exactly [A] how I want to go.
How you want to go, Jesse?
Eight crap shooters to be my pallbearers.
[C#] Let them be veiled out [F#m] in black.
[A] I want nine men going to the [F#m] graveyard, buddy, [C#] and eight men coming back.
[D#] I want the gang of gamblers [G#] gathered around my coving side.
A crooked [B] card printed [F#m] on my hearse.
Don't [D#m] say the crap shooter's another grave over me.
My live bandy dog gone curse.
[A#] Send poker players [F#m] to the graveyard.
[C#] Dig my grave [F#m] with the ace of spades.
I want twelve police in my funeral march.
[C#] I shall have playing blackjack lead the parade.
[G#] I want the judge and solicitor who jailed me fourteen times.
Put a pile of dice [F#m] in my shoes, and what else?
[A] Let a deck of cards be my tombstone, buddy.
I got the dying crap shooters blues.
_ [F#m] _ _ [A] Sixteen real good crap shooters.
Sixteen [A#] bootleggers to [C#] sing a song.
_ [F#m] Sixteen racket men gambling.
Cover [C#] ten bars while I'm [F#m] rolling along.
[A] He wanted twenty-two women [F#m] out of the Hampton Hotel.
[B] Twenty-six off [C#] of South Bell.
[F#m] Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta.
No, [C#] little Jesse didn't pass [F#m] out so swell.
His head was aching, heart was thumping.
Little Jesse went down, bouncing and jumping.
Folks don't be [C#] standing around Jesse crying.
[F#] He wants everybody to do Charleston whilst he [F#m] die.
One foot up in a toenail dragging.
[A] Throw my friend Jesse in the hoodoo wagon.
Call me a mama with that [F#] can of booze.
Dying crap [A] shooters blues, I [B] mean.
The dying [E] crap shooters
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