Volbeat – Black Bart (Guitar)

  A                   G     A    D C
A man appeared before Wells Fargo

A                   G      A    D C
Wells Fargo's stage driver man

E
Wearing a long white linen

      E                        A    G
And a dust flour sack over his head

A                     G   A    D C
Pointed a double barreled shotgun

A                       G        A  D C
At the driver and forced him to halt

E
Please throw down your box sir

    E                                        A
And madame please O don't need your money or pearls

              G          A
They call him Black Bart P08

            G             A
The highway bandit poetry man

F                     D
Leaving his poem disappeared

                    E
Like a ghost on his own all on his own

A                    G   A      D C
Rise Black Bart rise I'm calling

A               G   A    D C
Calling your spirit out

E
Dust off your hat and hatchet

                                             A    G
There are boxes out there with your name and mark

             G             A
The road has been cold and lonely

             G                A
The road has been out of good tales

      F
Let's shake up some dust

         D                      E
We'll be opening the box like before just like before

Bb                     F
For honor and for riches

Bb                                 F
I've labored long and hard for the bread

Bb                               F
But on my corns too long you tread

Bb                          F
You fine haired sons of bitches

  A                   G     A    D C
A man appeared before Wells Fargo

A                   G      A    D C
Wells Fargo's stage driver man

E
Wearing a long white linen

      E                        A    G
And a dust flour sack over his head

              G          A
They call him Black Bart P08

            G             A
The highway bandit poetry man

F                     D
Leaving his poem disappeared

                    E
Like a ghost on his own all on his own

Bb                     F
For honor and for riches

Bb                                 F
I've labored long and hard for the bread

Bb                               F
But on my corns too long you tread

Bb                          F
You fine haired sons of bitches