G# F# B
Where do bad folks go when they die
G# C# B
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
G# F# B
They go to the lake of fire and fry
C# F# G#
Won't see 'em again 'til the fourth of July
G# - F# G#
G# - F# G#
Ebm B
Now I knew a lady who came from Duluth
Ebm Bb
She got bit by a dog with a rabid tooth
Ebm B
She went to her grave just a little too soon
C# Ebm
and flew away howlin' on a yellow moon
-repete o Refrão-
Now people howl and people moan
and look for a dry place to call their own
and try to find somewhere to rest their bones
for the angels and the devil fight to make 'em their own