Merchants Lunch

Intro: Em [Verso 1] Em I took a walk Em He was walkin' up and down Broadway Em I was lookin' Em Had an eye out for a swell café Am I was hungry Am He was soundin' for a bite to munch Em I found a spot Em He took a table at the Merchant's Lunch B7 Oh, the Merchant's Lunch, it was an ocean of gloom Em It looked like half past midnight in the afternoon [Verso 2] Em Down by the bar Em A rat-faced manager was pourin' suds Em For the boys Em Well-dressed cowboys in their goodwill duds Am And the girls Am A pride of pedal-pushin' pinball queens Chewin' gum Em In sweaty combat at the wizard machine B7 But the queen of them all lookin' big as a forge Em Was Broadway Brenda and her derelict corps [Verso 3] A I ordered a blue plate special D And peered out through the gloom B7 Em Just to see what class of citizens inhabited this gloom C F C F And the hapless visages I saw were innocent of cheer D Though mirthless laughter filled the air G D G A Inspired by wine and beer Instrumental: | Dm | % | % | % | Gm | % | Dm | % | A7 | % | Dm | % | x2 [Verso 4] A D A D From these helpless accidents of fortune's careless aim B7 Em B7 Em Broadway Brenda rose upon her twin-sized, six-foot frame C Am Cm F C F I turned away to shun her eyes but I knew it was too late D G B7 A hand fell on my shoulder as my gaze fell on my plate [Verso 5] Em I looked her up and over Em And she did the same to me Em Her teeth were green Em As green as garden peas Am She shaked her hair Am With dish pan fingertips Em An earthquake of excitement Em Shook her Krakatoan hips B7 Her hands went to her bosom B7 A hush fell on the crew Em An acre of Brenda lay exposed to view [Verso 6] Em These fevered words, she whispered Em As he gazed upon the scene Em 'It's a custom here at Merchant's Lunch Em To entertain the queen' Am I grabbed my hat Am And, in an instant, he was on his feet Em I was sober as a judge Em Down at the county seat B7 He kept his diesel up to eighty B7 Way past Baton Rouge Em Fm Made it back to Beaumont for the evening news [Verso 7] Fm He owns a wide-load rig Fm I pay thousands in tax Fm He's gonna keep it in Texas Fm I ain't leavin' for snacks Bbm He's a drivin' fool Bbm The interstate belongs to me Fm But I am never goin' back Fm Into the state of Tennessee C7 Oh, the Merchant's Lunch, it was an ocean of gloom Fm Db Fm It looked like half past midnight in the afternoon