Please Don't Bury Me

	  		
D                     G   
Woke up this morning, put on my slippers,   
D                       A   
went to the kitchen and died,   
    D                         G          
And, oh, what a feeling when my soul went through the celing   
    A                        D   
and on up in to heaven I did rise!   
       G                              D   
When I got there they did say, "John, it happened this-a-way:   
                                       A    
you slipped upon the floor and hit your head,  
     D                      G                 D   
And all the angels say just before you passed away   
                  A                    D   
these are the very last words that you said:   
 
G                         D   
"Please don't bury me down in that cold, cold ground.   
                                              A   
I'd rather have them cut me up and pass me all around,   
D                
Throw my brains in a hurricane,   
G                     D   
The blind can have my eyes,   
      G                D                A                  D   
the deaf can take both of my ears if they don't mind the size." 


Instrumental: 
G D A D 
      
D                                                         G              D 
Give my stomach to Milwakee if they run out of beer;   
                                                      E7                    A7 
Put my socks in a cedar box, just get 'em out of here, 
   D                                                             G                         D 
Venus de milo can have my arms.  Look out! I've got your nose.   
  G                             D                      A7                     D 
Sell my heart to the junk man  and give my love to Rose.  
   
Chorus   

Instrumental: 
D G D E7 A7 
D G D 
G D A7 D 
  
D                                                         G              D 
Give my feet to the foot-loose, careless, fancy-free.   
                                                      E7                    A7 
Give my knees to the needy; don't you pull that stuff on me.   
   D                                               G                         D 
Hand me down my walkin' cane; it's a sin to tell a lie.   
  G                             D                      A7                     D 
Send my mouth way down south and kiss my ass good-bye.  
   
Chorus