Amanda Palmer - Ukulele anthem

^CSi^C7d Vicious played a four-string Fender bass guitar and couldn’t sing ^Fsus2And ev^G7sus4erybody^G7 hated him except the ones who loved him ^CA ^C7ukulele has four strings, but Sid did not play ukulele ^Fsus2He did^G7sus4 smack ^G7and probably killed his girlfriend Nancy Spungen

^CIf^C7 only Sid had had a ukulele, maybe he could have been happy ^Fsus2Maybe ^G7sus4he woul^G7d not have suffered such a sad end ^CHe^C7 maybe would have not done all that heroin instead ^Fsus2He may^G7sus4be woul^G7d’ve sat around just singing nice songs to his girlfriend

^CSo^C7 play your favorite cover song, especially if the words are wrong ^Fsus2Cos ev^G7sus4en if y^G7our grades are bad, it doesn’t mean you’re failing ^CDo^C7 your homework with a fork and eat your fruit loops in the dark ^Fsus2And br^G7sus4ing you^G7r etch-a-sketch to work and play your ukulele

^Fsus2Ukulel^G7e small and forceful, ukulele, brave and peaceful ^CYo^Fsus2u can play the ukulele too it is painfully simple ^Fsus2Play y^G7our ukulele badly, play your ukulele loudly ^Bb6Ukulele banish evil, ukulele save the people, Ukulele gleaming golden on the top of every steeple

^CLi^C7zzie borden took an axe, and gave her mother forty whacks ^Fsus2Then g^G7sus4ave her^G7 father forty-one, and left a tragic puzzle ^CIf^C7 only they had given her an instrument, those puritans ^Fsus2Had lo^G7sus4st the ^G7plot completely, see what happens when you muzzle

^CA ^C7person’s creativity and do not let them sing and scream ^Fsus2And no^G7sus4wadays ^G7it’s worse ‘cause kids have automatic handguns ^CIt^C7 takes about an hour to teach someone to play the ukulele ^Fsus2About ^G7sus4same to^G7 teach someone to build a standard pipe bomb you do the math(s)

^Fsus2Ukulel^G7e, thing of wonder, ukulele, wand of thunder ^CYo^Fsus2u can play the ukulele too in London and down under ^Fsus2Play J^G7oan Jett, and play Jacques Brel and Eminem and Neutral Milk Ho- ^Bb6Tell the children crush the hatred, play your ukulele naked If anybody tries to steal your ukulele, let them take it

^CIm^C7agine there’s no music, imagine there are no songs ^Fsus2Imagin^G7sus4e that ^G7John Lennon wasn’t shot in front of his apartment ^CNo^C7w i^Fsus2magine if John Lennon had composed “Imagine” for the ukulele ^G7sus4Maybe p^G7eople would have truly got the message

^CYo^C7u may think my approach is simple-minded and naïve ^Fsus2Like i^G7sus4f you w^G7ant to change the world then why not quit and feed the hungry ^CBu^C7t people for millennia have needed music to survive ^Fsus2And th^G7sus4 at’s ^G7why I’ve promised John that I will not feel guilty

^CSo^C7 play your favorite Beatles song and make the subway fall in love ^Fsus2They??^G7sus4?re onl^G7y $19.95, that isn’t lots of money ^CPl^C7ay until the sun comes up and play until your fingers suffer ^Fsus2Play L^G7sus4CD Soun^G7dsystem songs on your ukulele

^CQu^C7it the bitching on your blog and stop pretending art is hard ^Fsus2Just l^G7sus4imit yo^G7urself to three chords and do not practice daily ^CYo^C7u’ll minimize some stranger’s sadness with a piece of wood and plastic ^Fsus2Holy f^G7sus4uck it?^G7??s so fantastic, playing ukulele

^CEa^C7t your homework with a fork and do your fruit loops in the dark ^Fsus2And bring your etch-a-sketch to work, your flask of jack, your vibrator your fear of heights, your nikon lens

^CYo^C7ur mom and dad, your disco stick, your soundtrack from “Karate Kid” ^Fsus2Your g^G7sus4insu kn^G7ives, your rosary, your new Rebecca Black CD ^CYo^C7ur favorite room, your bowie knife, your stuffed giraffe, your new glass eye ^Fsus2Your s^G7sus4ousapho^G7ne, your breakfast tea, your Nick Drake tapes, your giving tree ^CYo^C7ur ice cream truck, your missing wife, your will to live, your urge to cry ^Fsus2Rememb^Cer we’re all going to die so play your ukulele