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Doc Watson

Life Gits Teejus Don't It

 

Life Gits Teejus Don't It

(album: Doc Watson On Stage - 1971)


This is a, sort of a portrait in words to a lazy country boy
Now I can't think of anybody in the world that'd fit any better than me or Merle, either one
Because when it's hot in the summertime, I'm just about as lazy as I can be
And, uh, Merle's a chip off the old block, you know
Or Rosaly said he was, but...

Yes, if she hears that, I'll be murdered
A little tune that's just actually talk, though
And there's sorts of little picking 'long the 'hind
And this music on this sounds like something somebody stole from one of those little classic ditties
You know, that's not really folk music
It's a thing called... it's a thing called "Life Gits Teejus, Don't It"

The sun comes up and the sun goes down
And the hands on the clock go 'round and 'round
And I just get up and it's time to lay down
Life gets teejus, don't it?

My shoe's untied, but shucks, I don't care
'Cause I reckon I ain't' a-going nowhere
I'd wash my face and comb my hair
Huh, it's just too much wasted effort

I open the door and the flies swarm in
And when I shut the door, I'm a-sweating again
And in the process, I crack my shin
Just one darn thing after another

The cow went dry and the hens won't lay
And the fish all quit biting last Saturday
My troubles keep piling up, day by day
And now I'm getting dandruff

My old great mule, you know I think the rascal's sick
For when I stuck him in the rump with a pin on a stick
He humped up his back but he just wouldn't kick
There's something cockeyed somewhere

Old hound's a-howling so forlorn
That's the laziest dog that ever was born
He's a-howling because he's a-sitting on a thorn
And he's just too tired to move over

Tin roof leaks and the chimney leans
And there's a hole in the seat of my old blue jeans
And I've had up the last of the pork and beans
Just can't depend on nothing

The mouse spinning on on my cupboard door
He's been at it now for I guess a month or more
When he gets in there, he's sure gonna be sore
Ain't a darn thing in it

It's debts and taxes and pains and woes
Aches and miseries and that's how it goes
And now I'm getting a cold in my nose
Life gets tasteless, don't it?

The sun comes up and the sun goes down
And the hands on the clock go 'round and 'round
And I just get up and it's time to lay down
Life gets teejus, don't it?

Fatto

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