Alabama – The Cheap Seats (Guitar)

| C    F       | G          F         C         F            G         F
This town ain't big, this town ain't small, It's a little of both they say.

 Am    F             Am    F           Am            F     G
Our ball club may be minor league but at least it's triple A.

 C       F          G     F     C        F           G      F
We sit below the Marlboro man, above the right field wall.

 Am       F        Am      F            Am      F                    G
We do the wave all by ourself, Hey Ump, a blind man coulda made that call

G           C                F                         C           F   C
We like our beer flat as can be, We like our dogs with mustard and relish.

G                      C                     F                   C    F  C
We got a great pitcher what's his name, Well we can't even spell it.

G                        C                F                                Am
We don't worry about the pennant much, We just like to see the boys hit it deep.

Am              F               G         
There's nothing like the view from the cheap seats.

C   F        G             F        C      F         G      F
The game was close, we'll call it a win, Go off to toast the boys again.

Am   F        Am     F                    Am    F             G
That local band is back in town, They got a kinda minor league sound.

       C         F            G      F     C            F             G     F
They're not that bad, they're not that good, But all in all it's understood.

Am        F        Am      F       Am       F            G
We wanna dance, they wanna play, We wouldn't have it any other way.

 C              F            G          F         C       F         G     F   
Now the majors called up oh what's his name, And one more buildin' rises tall.

  Am      F        Am       F       Am        F         G
And suddenly we're all grown up, And this old town not quite so small.

   C            F        G           F       C        F         G         F
But I'll always miss the middle size town, In the middle of the middle-west.

  Am         F            Am     F         Am           F       G
With no name pitchers and local bands, And mustard and relish and all the rest.