The Idiot — Stan Rogers
Chords and lyrics for The Idiot by Stan Rogers (key of D).
Verse 1
This is one of my favorite songs from the Live in Halifax album. The lyrics
strike close to home and it has a
great throbbing, knuckle-dragging, Neanderthal kind of rhythm. This coupled
with Stan Rogers's voice makes an
amazing song.
From what I can tell based on this track most of the chords out there
be just me. There are some fill lick/riff/things that I could not quite
variation of the "Travis" picking pattern. From what I can figure it is
(the strings change based on the chord, but this should be the pattern):
are slightly off, but I guess that may
figure out, but they seem to be a
something like this,
In some places it can be heard clearly-(ish) and sounds more like this:
Anyway, with due apologies to my fellow Albertans and Ontarians, but no
my rendition of The Idiot by Stan Rogers.
not tell if this was one of them,
of DADGAD and can be decently
apologies to Morris Dancers, here is
[Intro] (D Chord)
Verse
[D]I often take these [A]night shift [Bm]walks when the [G]foreman's not [Bm]around.
I [G]turn my back on the [D]cooling stacks and make for open [A]ground.
Far [D]out beyond the [A]tank farm [Bm]fence where the [G]gas flare makes no [Bm]sound,
I [G]forget the stink and I [D]always think back [A]to that [G]Eastern [D]town.
Verse
[D]I remember back six [A]years [Bm]ago, this [G]Western life I [Bm]chose.
And [G]every day, the [D]news would say some factory's going to [A]close.
Well, I [D]could have stayed to [A]take the [Bm]Dole, but [G]I'm not one of [Bm]those.
I take [G]nothing free, and [D]that makes me an [A]idiot, [G]I [D]suppose.
Chorus
So I [G]bid farewell to the [D]Eastern town I [D/A]never more will [A]see;
But [G]work I must so I [D]eat this dust and breathe [A]refinery.
Oh I [D]miss the green and the [A]woods and [Bm]streams and I [G]don't like cowboy
[Bm]clothes;
But I [G]like being free and [D]that makes me an [A]idiot I [D]suppose.
[Break] (same as verse with a fiddle playing the melody)
[D] [A] [Bm] [G] [Bm]
[G] [D] [A]
[D] [A] [Bm] [G] [Bm]
[G] [D] [A] [D]
Verse
So [D]come all you fine young [Bm]'fellers who've been [G]beaten to the [Bm]ground.
This [G]western life's no [D]paradise, but it's better than lying [A]down.
Oh, the [D]streets aren't clean, and there's [A]nothing [Bm]green, and the [G]hills are
dirty [Bm]brown,
But the [G]government Dole will [D]rot your soul back [A]there in your home [D]town.
Chorus
So [G]bid farewell to the [D]Eastern town you [D/A]never more will [A]see.
There's [G]self-respect and a [D]steady cheque in this [A]refinery.
You will [D]miss the green and the [A]woods and[Bm] streams and the [G]dust will fill
your [Bm]nose.
But [G]you'll be free, and [D]just like me, an [A]idiot, I [D]suppose
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