Intro:
[Dm] [Am] [Bb] [F] [C] [Dm] [C] [F]
[Dm] [Am] [Bb] [F] [C] [Dm] [C] [F]
It's [Dm]six a.[Bb]m. and [F]even Big [C]Ben
Is [Dm]trying to get his [Bb]head down for a [F]ki[C]p
But no [Dm]sooner is it [Bb]down
And then it's [F]on with dressing [C]gown
For this [Dm]city very [Bb]rarely loses [F]gri[C]p
( Tab from: http://www.guitartabs.cc/tabs/b/beautiful_south/from_under_the_covers_crd.html )
But [F]I have a [C]friend who's [Bb]never up by [C]ten
He's [F]fast as[C]leep with [Bb]mouth open [C]wide
He's [F]lost a lot of [C]jobs, but he's [Bb]won a lot of [C]friends
And he [F]says to [C]me, he [Bb]cannot tell the [C]time
It's seven a.m. and we're coughing up the phlegm
Spitting out the taste of night before
And we'll vomit and we'll choke
Just to climb their tatty rope
Well this city has its charm and its claw
And he'll blame his clock
Or he'll say he's lost his socks
And they'll tell you that he's been bitten by a snake
His excuses are an art
>From the bottom of his heart
And he thinks of them whenever he awakes
It's eight a.m. we're on the road again
Racing for a placing at the top
And it says green for go
For the people in the know
But for the others all it says is red for stop
It's cold and it's damp
And they've dug him a grave
And the ten fifteen merchant's still in bed
And scrawled upon the headboard
For the whole wide world to see is
"Died In The Arms Of Big Ted"
[Dm] [Am] [Bb] [F] [C] [Dm] [C] [F]
[Dm] [Am] [Bb] [F] [C] [Dm] [C] [F]
It's [Dm]six a.[Bb]m. and [F]even Big [C]Ben
Is [Dm]trying to get his [Bb]head down for a [F]ki[C]p
But no [Dm]sooner is it [Bb]down
And then it's [F]on with dressing [C]gown
For this [Dm]city very [Bb]rarely loses [F]gri[C]p
( Tab from: http://www.guitartabs.cc/tabs/b/beautiful_south/from_under_the_covers_crd.html )
But [F]I have a [C]friend who's [Bb]never up by [C]ten
He's [F]fast as[C]leep with [Bb]mouth open [C]wide
He's [F]lost a lot of [C]jobs, but he's [Bb]won a lot of [C]friends
And he [F]says to [C]me, he [Bb]cannot tell the [C]time
It's seven a.m. and we're coughing up the phlegm
Spitting out the taste of night before
And we'll vomit and we'll choke
Just to climb their tatty rope
Well this city has its charm and its claw
And he'll blame his clock
Or he'll say he's lost his socks
And they'll tell you that he's been bitten by a snake
His excuses are an art
>From the bottom of his heart
And he thinks of them whenever he awakes
It's eight a.m. we're on the road again
Racing for a placing at the top
And it says green for go
For the people in the know
But for the others all it says is red for stop
It's cold and it's damp
And they've dug him a grave
And the ten fifteen merchant's still in bed
And scrawled upon the headboard
For the whole wide world to see is
"Died In The Arms Of Big Ted"
