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Rambling Fever

Höfundur lags: Merle Haggard Höfundur texta: Merle Haggard Flytjandi: Merle Haggard Sent inn af: Anonymous
[G]My hat don't hang on the same nail too [C]long
My [G]ears can't stand to hear the same old [D7]song   
And I [G]don't leave the highway long [C]enough
To bog down in the [G]mud  
Cause I've got rambling [D7]fever in my [G]blood

I caught this rambling fever long [C]ago  
When [G]I first heard a lonesome whistle [D7]blow   
If [G]someone said I ever gave a [C]damn
They damn sure told you [G]wrong
I've had rambling [D7]fever all [G]along

Ramb-ling [C]fever  the kind [G]that can't be measured by [D7]degrees
[G]Ramb-ling [C]fever  there ain't [G]no kind of [D7]cure for my [G]disease

There's times I'd like to bed down on a [C]sofa
And [G]let some pretty lady rub my [C]back
And spend the early morning [C]drinking [G]coffee
And talking about when [D7]I'll be coming [G]back

Cause I don't let know no woman tie me [C]down
And I'll [G]never get too old to get a[D7]round
I'm gonna [G]die along the highway and rot a[C]way  
Like some old high line [G]pole
Rest this rambling [D7]fever in my [G]soul

Ramb-ling [C]fever  the kind [G]that can't be measured by [D7]degrees
[G]Ramb-ling [C]fever  there ain't [G]no kind of [D7]cure for my [G]disease

My hat don't hang on the same nail too long
My ears can't stand to hear the same old song
And I don't leave the highway long enough
To bog down in the mud
Cause I've got rambling fever in my blood

I caught this rambling fever long ago
When I first heard a lonesome whistle blow
If someone said I ever gave a damn
They damn sure told you wrong
I've had rambling fever all along

Ramb-ling fever  the kind that can't be measured by degrees
Ramb-ling fever  there ain't no kind of cure for my disease

There's times I'd like to bed down on a sofa
And let some pretty lady rub my back
And spend the early morning drinking coffee
And talking about when I'll be coming back

Cause I don't let know no woman tie me down
And I'll never get too old to get around
I'm gonna die along the highway and rot away
Like some old high line pole
Rest this rambling fever in my soul

Ramb-ling fever  the kind that can't be measured by degrees
Ramb-ling fever  there ain't no kind of cure for my disease

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