Cifra Club

Mr. Shorty

Marty Robbins

Cifra: Principal (violão e guitarra)
Selo Cifra Club: esta cifra foi revisada para atender aos critérios oficiais da nossa Equipe de Qualidade.
tom: C
(C) Nobody knew where he (Am) came from
(C) They only knew he came (Am) in
(C) Slowly he walked to the (Am) end of the bar
And he (Dm) ordered up one slug of (E7) gin
Well, I could (Am) see that he wasn't a (Dm) large man
I could (G) tell that he wasn't too (C) tall
I (E7) judged him to be (Am) 'bout five-foot three
And his (D) voice was a soft Texas (G) drawl.
Said he was needin' some wages 
'Fore he could ride for the west 
Said he could do most all kind of work 
Said he could ride with the best; 
There in his blue eyes was sadness 
That comes from the need of a friend 
And tho' he tried, he still couldn't hide 
The loneliness there, deep within. 
Said he would work thru the winter 
For thirty a month and his board 
I started to say where he might land a job 
When a fellow came in thru the door; 
And I could tell he was lookin' for trouble 
From the way that he came stompin' in 
He told me to leave Shorty there by himself 
Come down and wait on a man. 
The eyes of the little man narrowed 
The smile disappeared from his face 
Gone was the friendliness that I had seen 
And a wild look of hate took its' place; 
But the big one continued to mock him 
And he told me that I'd better go 
Find him a couple of glasses of milk 
Then maybe Shorty would grow. 
When the little man spoke, there was stillness 
He made sure that everyone heard 
Slowly he stepped away from the bar 
And I still remember these words; 
Oh! it's plain that you're lookin' for trouble 
Trouble's what I try to shun 
If that's what you want, then that's what you'll get 
'Cause cowboy, we're both packin' guns. 
His hand was already positioned 
Feet wide apart on the floor 
I hadn't noticed but there on his hip 
Was a short-barreled Bad Forty-Four; 
It was plain he was ready and waitin' 
He leaned a bit forward and said 
When you call me Shorty, say Mister, my friend 
Maybe you'd rather be dead. 
In the room was a terrible silence 
As the big one stepped out on the floor 
All drinkin' stopped and the tick of the clock 
Said death would wait ten seconds more; 
He cussed once or twice in a whisper 
And he said with a snarl on his lips 
Nobody's Mister to me, little man! 
And he grabbed for the gun on his hips. 
But the little man's hands was like lightning 
The Bad Forty-Four was the same 
The Forty-Four spoke and it sent lead and smoke 
And seventeen inches of flame; 
For the big one had never cleared leather 
Beaten before he could start 
A little round hole had appeared on his shirt 
The bullet went clear thru his heart. 
The little man stood there a moment 
Then holstered the Bad Forty-Four 
It's always this way so I never stay 
Slowly he walked out the door; 
Nobody knew where he came from 
They won't forget he came by 
They won't forget how a Forty-Four gun 
One night made the difference in size. 
(C) As for me, I'll remember the (Am) sadness
(C) Shown in the eyes of the (Am) man
(C) If we meet someday, you can (Am) bet I would say
That it's (D) me, Mister (D7) Shorty,
Your (G) frien-(F) ien-(G) end.
Marty Robbins-In The Wild West, Part 5
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    608 exibições
      • ½ Tom
      • A
      • Bb
      • B
      • C
      • Db
      • D
      • Eb
      • E
      • F
      • F#
      • G
      • Ab
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