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CHEROKEE FIDDLE

         D                     G
When the train pulled into the station
                 A   Bb                Bm    Bb
He'd open up his case and resin up his bow
                 D                       G
He'd play upside down the Orange Blossom Special
             A7                                                D
Cause if you want to make a living you've got to put on a good show
                   Bm                      D        
     And when he'd smell the smoke and the cinders
                         Bm                    Em         A7
     He'd slick back his hair, and open up his case
                            D                            G
     He'd play the Cherokee Fiddle, he'd play it for the whiskey
                A7                             D
     Cause good whiskey never let him lose his place
              D                      G
He was always there, playing for the miners
            A           Bb             Bm      Bb
The Devil's Dream was a song they understood
              D             G
And then he'd go out to Oklahoma
         A7                                                    D
But he'd wait till the trains were running and the weather was good
                   Bm                      D        
     And when he'd smell the smoke and the cinders
                         Bm                    Em         A7
     He'd slick back his hair, and open up his case
                            D                            G
     He'd play the Cherokee Fiddle, he'd play it for the whiskey
                A7                             D
     Cause good whiskey never let him lose his place


        D                            G
Now the Indians are dressing up like cowboys
        A                   Bb                    Bm    Bb
And the cowboys are putting leather and turquoise on
        D                G
And the music is sold by lawyers
        A7                                                  D
And the fools who fiddled in the middle of the stations are gone
                Bm                D
     Some folks say they'll never miss it
                     Bm                       Em     A7
     That old fiddle squealed like the Indian race
                  D              G
     The Cherokee Fiddle is gone forever
              A7                                            D
     Like the music of the whistle that the old locomotives made

chorus