Moose Turd Pie Chords

Lyrics & chords

[Verse 1]
[G]
[C]I went down and got a job
with the rural electrification
in the Navajo Indian [F]Reservation,
running electric power lines
[G]into all the Navajo outhouses.
I was one of the first people
to wire a head for a reser[C]vation. to.
Finally, I'll [G]tell you about [C]the worst
job I ever [F]had in my [C]life.
Worst job I ever had in [Ab]my life
[C]was working for the,
[Eb]was [C]it the San[F]ta Fe?
[C]Yeah, it was the Santa Fe Railroad
south of Las Vegas, Nevada.
Yes, that's the old Mormon Muddy Mission,
you see.
It's way out in what the Navajos
called the boonies,
out in the desert.
Now the job was gandy dancing.
Now gandy dancing
used to be in the old [G]days,
gandy dancing [C]was when the Irish
were building the railroad.
Of course,
the first transcontinental railroad
was built [Ab]by Irish [C]laborers,
and they used these long
[G]-handled shovels
called Ir[C]ish banjos
that were made by the Gandhi Shovel
Company of Chicago.
Now the Irish laborer
would take the wide end of the shovel
when he could find it
and he would jam it in under a rail or a tie
and he would climb out
on the long handle
do a little jig step [G]out there
and that would [C]lever the tie
up of the rail up
and you push gravel
in underneath it
and tamp it down
and that levels the roadbed.
See that's what Gandhi dancing
is.
Leveling the roadbed
so the damn train doesn't fall
off as it goes by
which is just a big drag for everybody.
They don't do gandhi dance
in the normal way anymore,
see, [F]like [C]they did in
the old days.
Nowadays they run [G]three cars
out on the line.
[C]They run a box car out [G]there that's a bunk car,
you [C]sleep in it,
got bunks in there 18 inches
apart.
And then you got a tool car
with your tamping irons and your [G]tongs
and [C]an d your double jack hammers and
spikes
and all of that equipment, see, to do the job
and then you got a cook car
[G]I mean there's no
restaurants any place [C]around
so you got a cook car pots and pans
and a coal or wood burning stove
and a long table [F]down the middle to eat [C]at only thing
they don't hire is a cook that's because they're cheap
saves the money rule is
that in that crew
they're supposed to pick
among their own members
who's gonna be the cook
they don't try to do it sensibly
like draw lots or decide
who the best cook
is what they do as they wait and find out who bitches and whines and pisses
and moans the most about the cooking and they say all right wise guy
you think you can do better
you get to be the cook
well that was me see old alligator mouth
a new man on the crew
and that was the worst food I'd ever had
I mean it was dog bottom pie
and pheasant sweat
otter water comes out of a otter
it's a terrible terrible stuff
some people might think it's a
delicacy
but I thought it was garb
so I complained and they said
all right wise guy
you get to be the cook
that made me mad
because I didn't want to cook
but I knew if anybody complained
about my cooking
that they were gonna have to cook
armed with that knowledge
I sallied forth over the muddy river
I was walking around
among the cheat grass
and bunch grass there and I looked down and
there was just a [G]hell of a big [C]moose turd.
Biggest damn moose turd
that was a real steamer.
I looked down at that meadow wafer
and I said to myself, self
I'm gonna bake up a big
moose turd pot.
Because if anybody complains about my cooking,
they're going to have to cook.
So I tipped that [C]pasture pastry up on edge.
I got [C]my shit together, so to speak.
And I started rolling it down
[C]to ward the old cook car.
I got it down there
and leaned [C]it up against the side
and I climbed up in the cook car
and I baked up a hell of a big
pie shell.
And I baked that [C]mousse turd in it
as slick as you please.
And I crimped the edges with
my thumbs
and laid strips of dough
across it
and garnished with a sprig of parsley,
a little paprika.
It was beautiful. [C]Poetry on a plate.
And I served it for dessert,
waiting for the first hint of a complaint.
Well, this giant dude come in,
about five foot 40.
I mean he was big,
slowed himself down
like a fool on the stool,
picked up his fork,
took a big [C]bite
of that moose turd pie.
Well he threw down his fork,
and he let out a beller,
and he yelled,
My God, that's moose turd pie!
It's good though.