Ghosts Of Saturday Night

Bb7         Eb9
A cab combs the snake,
Bb7         Eb9
Tryin' to rake in that last night's fare,
Bb7
And a solitary sailor
                        Am7                  D7
Who spends the facts of his life like small change on strangers...

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Paws his inside P-coat pocket for a welcome twenty-five cents,
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And the last bent butt from a package of Kents,
Bb7
As he dreams of a waitress with Maxwell House eyes
                 Am7                   D7
And marmalade thighs with scrambled yellow hair.

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Her rhinestone-studded moniker says, "Irene"
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As she wipes the wisps of dishwater blonde from her eyes
Am7  D7

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And the Texaco beacon burns on,
Bb7                    Eb9                          Bb7
The steel-belted attendant with a 'Ring and Valve Special'...
                       Am7
Cryin' "Fill'er up and check that oil"
                                             D7
"You know it could be a distributor and it could be a coil."

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The early mornin' final edition's on the stands,
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And that town cryer's cryin' there with nickels in his hands.
Bb7                    Am7   D7
Pigs in a blanket sixty-nine cents,
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Eggs - roll 'em over and a package of Kents,
Bb7                                  Eb9    Bb7
Adam and Eve on a log, you can sink 'em damn straight,
Am7                            D7
Hash browns, hash browns, you know I can't be late.

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And the early dawn cracks out a carpet of diamond
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Across a cash crop car lot filled with twilight Coupe Devilles,
                  Am7
Leaving the town in a-keeping
                        D7
Of the one who is sweeping
           Bb7            Eb9    Outro
Up the ghost of Saturday night...