Listen to Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind In Copenhagen) by Tom Waits

Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind In Copenhagen)

Tom Waits

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Music Video

Tom Waits - Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tom Waits
Tom Waits
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tom Waits
Tom Waits
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bill Broms
Bill Broms
Engineer
Bones Howe
Bones Howe
Producer
Geoff Howe
Geoff Howe
Engineer

Lyrics

Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did Got what I paid for now See ya tomorrow, hey Frank can I borrow A couple of bucks from you? To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley And tired of all these soldiers here No one speaks English and everything's broken And my Stacys are soaking wet To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cab's parking A lot they can do for me I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open And I'm down on my knees tonight Old Bushmill's I staggered, you buried the dagger Your silhouette window light To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me Now I lost my Saint Christopher now that I've kissed her And the one-armed bandit knows And the maverick Chinaman and the cold-blooded signs And the girls down by the strip-tease shows Go, waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me No, I don't want your sympathy The fugitives say that the streets aren't for dreaming now Manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories They want a piece of the action anyhow Go, waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me And you can ask any sailor and the keys from the jailor And the old men in wheelchairs know That Mathilda's the defendant, she killed about a hundred And she follows wherever you may go Waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace And a wound that will never heal No prima donna, the perfume is on An old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey And goodnight to the street sweepers The night watchman flame keepers and goodnight, Mathilda too
Writer(s): Thomas Alan Waits Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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