Sunday Morning Coming Down taby ukulele według Johnny Cash

A
Well I woke up Sunday morning
        D              E
With no way to hold my head
            A
That didn't hurt
A
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't
F#m                         E
Bad so I had one more for dessert
A
Then I fumbled through my closet
       D
For my clothes
                            A   F#m
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
       D
And I washed my face
            E
And combed my hair

And stumbled down the stairs

To meet the day


A
I'd smoked my mind the night before
     D              E
With cigarettes and songs
               A
That I'd been pickin'
A                                    
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
F#m                          E
Playin' with a can that he was kickin'
A
Then I crossed the empty street and
           D
Caught the sunday smell
                  A     F#m
Of someone fryin' chicken
       D
And it took me back to something
              
That I'd lost somehow
     E              A
Somewhere along the way


A                      D
On the sunday morning sidewalk
                         A    F#m
Wishing lord that I was stoned
                             E
Cause there's something in a sunday
                        A
That makes a body feel alone
                               D
And there's nothing short of dying
                         A    F#m
Half as lonesome as the sound
                          E
On the sleeping city sidewalk
                       A
Sunday morning coming down

A
In the park I saw a daddy
        D              E
With a laughing little girl
A
He was swingin'
A
And I stopped beside the Sunday school
                    F#m
And listened to the song
                E
That they were singing
A
Then I headed back for home
                    D
And somewhere far away
                  A     F#m
A lonely bell was ringing
       D
And it echoed though the canyon like
    E                           A
The disappearing dreams of yesterday



A                      D
On the sunday morning sidewalk
                         A    F#m
Wishing lord that I was stoned
                             E
Cause there's something in a sunday
                        A
That makes a body feel alone
                               D
And there's nothing short of dying
                         A    F#m
Half as lonesome as the sound
                          E
On the sleeping city sidewalk
                       A
Sunday morning coming down