When They Ask Jan Hauenstein (Am)When they (Em/B)ask where my (Fj7)mother is, I (Am)say she´s a(Em/B)way for the (Fj7)day, I (Am)say that she (Em/B)is on (Fj7)holiday, For I (G)do not wish to ex(E)plain, Says the (Am)little girl,(Fj7) (G) Says the (Am)little gi(Dm6)r(Am)l. (Fj7) (G) (E) (Am) When they (Em/B)ask where my (Fj7)father is, I (Am)say he stuck a (Em/B)knife in his (Fj7)heart, He (Am)said his life just (Em/B)would not (Fj7)start, And (G)every day it was the (E)same, Says the (Am)little boy,(Fj7) (G) Says the (Am)little b(Dm6)o(Am)y. (Fj7) (G) The (C)days are fine, there´s (G)friends and fun, (F) There are people who (C)care, (C/B) But (Am)then, when the (Fj7)day is done, When the (E/B)night is black, when there (Am)is no sun, It (Dm6)is too much to (E)bear. (Am)That´s when the (E)tear(E/B)drops (Am)come. (Dm6) (G) (Am) (Dm6) (G) (E) (Am)When I walk (Em/B)home from (Fj7)school alone, (Am) I miss (Em/B)my mummy (Fj7)then, (Am)I´ll never (Em/B)walk with (Fj7)her again, Not (G)sure I can ex(E)plain, Says the (Am)little girl,(Fj7) (G) Says the (Am)little gi(Dm6)r(Am)l. (Fj7) (G) (E) (Am) When I (Em/B)am swimming (Fj7)extra-fast, I (Am)miss my (Em/B)daddy (Fj7)then, For he´d (Am)kiss me a(Em/B)gain and a(Fj7)gain, (G)Call me his (E)champion, Says the (Am)little boy,(Fj7) (G) Says the (Am)little b(Dm6)o(Am)y. (Fj7) (G) (E)This song´s for (Am)you, (Fj7) (G) (E)Little folks from (Am)Bremen. (Fj7) (G) May (E)time be your (Am)healer.(Am7) A documentary on TV today Jan Hauenstein, Göttingen, Sunday, 15 November 2009 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein@gmx.de

Far Too Young (To Be This Old) Words Gene Henriksen/Music Jan Hauenstein (Am) (Am7) (D) (Am) (Am7) (D) (Am) (Am7) (D) (G)Sitting in a (C)clinic on a (D)gloomy (D4)A(D)pril (Em)day, (Am7)Scanning pics in (D)People--who (F)are these people, (C)any(D)way?(D4) (D) (G) Once I got in (C)trouble, but (D)now I (D4)wait (D)in (Em)line, Don't (Am7)do much cell phone (D)talking, I'm (Cj7)saving up my ti(C)me. (D) (Em) I'm (F)far too young to (C)be this old, (Bb/D)chopping pills in (Am)halves, I (Bm7short)almost was a (Em)Hippie once, had (Am)hair upon my (D)calves.(D2) (D) I re(F)member risky (C)stunts for fun, back (Bb/D)when my Madras (Am)bled, I'm (Am7)far too young to (D)be this old, at (Cj7)least here in my he(C)ad. (D) (Em) (Am7) (D) (C) (D) (G) (Cj7)(G) (D) If it (G)wasn't for the (C)memories, I'd (D)think I (D4)got (D)it (Em)wrong, Though I (Am7)move a little (D)slower, there's still (F)verses to my (C)so(D)ng.(D4) (D) Thought (G)I'd maybe take up (C)jogging, it (D)couldn't (D4)do (D)much (Em)harm. Got con(Am7)fused when some kid (D)passed me, what's that (Cj7)band around his ar(C)m? (D) (Em) I'm (F)far too young to (C)be this old, (Bb/D)chopping pills in (Am)halves, I (Bm7short)almost was a (Em)Hippie once, had (Am)hair upon my (D)calves.(D2) (D) I re(F)member risky (C)stunts for fun, back (Bb/D)when my Madras (Am)bled, I'm (Am7)far too young to (D)be this old, at (Cj7)least here in my he(C)ad. (D) (Em) (Am7) (D) (C) (D) (G) (Cj7)(G) (D) Didn't (G)talk out loud in (C)public then, when (D)by my(D4)self, (D)a(Em)lone, But it (Am7)seems to be all (D)right now, just pre(F)tend you're on the (C)pho(D)ne.(D4) (D) The (G)memory in com(C)puters gets (D)bigger (D4)all (D)the (Em)time... ...I for(Am7)get now what my (D)point was, so is (Cj7)that some kinda cri(C)me? (D) (Em) I'm (F)far too young to (C)be this old, (Bb/D)chopping pills in (Am)halves, I (Bm7short)almost was a (Em)Hippie once, had (Am)hair upon my (D)calves.(D2) (D) I re(F)member risky (C)stunts for fun, back (Bb/D)when my Madras (Am)bled, I'm (Am7)far too young to (D)be this old, at (Cj7)least here in my he(C)ad. (D) (Em) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (G) (B)(A#)(A) (C)(B7)(Em) (B)(B)(B)(A#)(A) (C)(B7)(B7)(B7)(Em) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (G) (B)(A#)(A) (C)(B7)(Em) (B)(B)(B)(A#)(A) (C)(B7)(B7)(B7)(Em) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (Am)(Am7)(Am7)(Am7) (D) (G) (D)(hold) The (G)things I did in (C)ignorance have (D)made me (D4)wi(D)ser (Em)now, I (Am7)did enough for (D)three back then--it (F)evens out, some(C)ho(D)w.(D4) (D) The (G)rains of May and (C)heat of June mark (D)only (D4)half (D)the (Em)year, And (Am7)someone has to (D)do this, though I (Cj7)didn't volunte(C)er. (D) (Em) If phi(F)losophy was (C)coinage and (Bb/D)history paid the (Am)rent, I'd be (Bm7short)fine, but mathe(Em)matics seems to (Am)think I'm over(D)spent.(D2) (D) I'm (F)far too young to (C)be this old, or (Bb/D)sit here on my (Am)duff, In my (Am7)head I'm in my (D)twenties, and I (Cj7)know a lot more stu(C)ff… (D) (Em) (Am7) (D) (C) (D) (G) (Cj7)(G) (D)(hold) (G)(hold) G bass note Words Gene Henriksen, music Jan Hauenstein, Göttingen, 03 October 2008 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com ...whassup with Madras? I know it´s a town in India... Jan Where, evidently, a sort of plaidish cloth is/was made, with poor dye retention qualities. For a while there, back in the when, we all wore button down shirts made of "bleeding madras" and the more you wore them, the more the pattern ran together... I think you had to be there. Gene Thanks. I, ahem, knew they were making cloth there, Eddie, all the usually useless stuff that´s stored in my gray head. Especially useless as I did not make the connection. Madras, town in the southern part of India, district capital (forget the name of the district, though), cloth, glass, and I think a special sort of beef dish? And they changed the name of the town awhile ago, forgot the new name. I had an Indian shirt I loved, light as a feather. Didn´t bleed, but... One day, at a party, a young gent gently taps me on the shoulder, says, 'I believe, sir, your shirt is aflame.' Right he was, I had gotten too close to a candle flame. The boy sure had style. Jan I, on the other hand, had a friend who thought he had extinguished a dooby, and hid it down in the depths of his afro (where we used to hide such items), only to discover that he had a made an incomplete job of it. And his hair sort of exploded. Laugh, we thought we'd start... Gene Beats my story flames down. We were allowed to smoke in linguistics, as Prof. Gardener smoked a pipe hisownself. So I commenced to light mine, lit half of my moustache to boot. Nasal hair sizzling, too. The reek was astounding. Possibly the last time I shaved off moustache and beard completely, mustacheabeen back in 72 or 73. Kind of embarrassing, too. Jan

Lord Franklin Traditional (G) It was homeward bound one night (Am)on the deep, Swinging in my (C)hammock, I (D7)fell asleep. (G) I dreamed a (G7)dream, and I (C)thought it (G)true,(G/F#) (Em) Concerning (Am)Franklin and his (C)gallant (G)crew. (C)(G) (D)(D7)(G) With one hundred seamen he (Am)sailed away To the frozen (C)ocean in the (D7)month of May, (G) To seek that (G7)passage a(C)round the (G)pole,(G/F#) (Em) Where we poor (Am)seamen do (C)sometimes (G)go. (C)(G) (D)(D7)(G) Through cruel hardships they (Am)mainly strove, Their ship on (C)mountains of (D7)ice was drove. (G) Only the (G7)Eskimo in his (C)skin ca(G)noe(G/F#) (Em) Was the only (Am)one who (C)ever came (G)through. (C)(G) (D)(D7)(G) In Baffin's Bay where the (Am)whale fishes blow The fate of (C)Franklin no (D7)man may know. (G) The fate of (G7)Franklin no (C)tongue can (G)tell,(G/F#) (Em) Lord Franklin a(Am)lone with his (C)sailors do (G)dwell. (C)(G) (D)(D7)(G) And now my burden, it (Am)gives me pain, For my long lost (C)Franklin I'd (D7)cross the main. (G) Ten thousand (G7)pounds I would (C)freely (G)give(G/F#) (Em) To know on (Am)earth that my (C)Franklin do (G)live. (C)(G) (D)(D7)(G) janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Laying In The Weeds Fred Grittner/Jan Hauenstein (Am) (A2)(Am) (Bb/D) (Am) (A2)(Am) (Bb/D) You (Am)tried to find (A2)a (Am)reason, You (Bb/D)learned a fiddler’s tune. You (Am)played out all (A2)the (Am)horsehair (Bb/D)By the harvest moon. I could be (Am)laying in (A2)the (Am)weeds, (Dm6) I could be (E)layin(E7)g in the (Am)weeds. (Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (G) (C-note on B-string, pull off to B-note) I(Am)magine all (A2)the (Am)questions Sus(Bb/D)pended in the air, (Am)Waiting for (A2)the (Am)moment (Bb/D)When you’ve time to care… I might be (Am)laying in (A2)the (Am)weeds, (Dm6) I might be (E)layin(E7)g in the (Am)weeds. (Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (G) (C-note on B-string, pull off to B-note) You (Am)think that you (A2)have (Am)science (Bb/D)Sitting by your side, You (Am)think you got pro(A2)tec(Am)tion, But (Bb/D)all you got is pride. I might be (Am)laying in (A2)the (Am)weeds, (Dm6) I might be (E)layin(E7)g in the (Am)weeds. (Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (G) (C-note on B-string, pull off to B-note) You (Am)hear the leaves (A2)a-(Am)rustling (Bb/D)In the sundown wind, You (Am)start to get (A2)the (Am)feeling Your (Bb/D)exits have been thinned. I might be (Am)laying in (A2)the (Am)weeds, (Dm6) I might be (E)layin(E7)g in the (Am)weeds. (Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (G) (C-note on B-string, pull off to B-note) I (Am)sense what you’ve (A2)for(Am)gotten Is (Bb/D)making you believe The (Am)world has got (A2)you (Am)thinking It has (Bb/D)something up its sleeve… I might be (Am)laying in (A2)the (Am)weeds, (Dm6) I might be (E)layin(E7)g in the (Am)weeds. (Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (Am) (A2)(Am)(Am/E)(Am)(Fj7) (G) (C-note on B-string, pull off to B-note) (Am) Words © Fred Grittner, 2000, music Jan Hauenstein, Turunc, Turkey, 06 October 2009 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Born To Be Moderately Wild Words Rex DeLong & Jan Hauenstein/Music Jan Hauenstein (B7) (E) Got my Scooter scootin', Boppin' down the Byways,(E7) (A7)Mowin' down the Mopeds, Hell out on the Highways!(E) (B7)Ol' Round Guy gonna make it happen, (A7)Ol' Round Guy still (E)got that Jive, (B7)Ol' Round Guy´s a-pumpin' Passion, (A7)Two-Wheelin' to that (E)*9 to 5*. Puffin' on a Meerschaum, Mellow Easy Rider,(E7) (A7)Holy Smokin' Cool One, Bonny Pied Piper!(E) (B7)Pass a Red Wing, pass a Kawasaki, (A7)Don't matter much that (E)they were parked, (B7)Brillig, Swithy, Mimsy Jabberwocky, (A7)Ridin High, shootin' (E)out Low Sparks. Like a (B7)True Aging Child, (A7)Rippin' on a Slip n' Slide, Ya' (B7)know, I's born to be…(hold) Whoa! (E)Mod'rately Wild! Cubic centimeters One Hundred Twenty Five!!(E7) (A7)Roaring down the Road, So glad to be Alive!(E) (B7)Motorino, Hippy-Dippy Honda, (A7)Take a Number - (E)Eat my Dust, (B7)Cushy Cushmans, Smart-Aleck Suzuki, (A7)Dumb and Dumber (E)Buckets-of-Rust! Like a (B7)True Aging Child, (A7)Rippin' on a Slip n' Slide, Ya' (B7)know, I's born to be…(hold) Whoa! (E)Mod'rately Wild! Words Rex DeLong & Jan Hauenstein, fall 2009, Music Jan Hauenstein, 20 February 2010 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Missouri Birds John Stewart (Cj7) (Fj7) (Cj7) (Fj7) (G) Missouri (Cj7)birds, (Fj7) (Cj7) Flying over (Fj7)old Saint Louis, (Cj7) Hear that song they're (Fj7)singing to me, (E) ”Go into the (Am)world (G) While (Cj7)you're young.” (Fj7) (G) But the preacher's (Cj7)words (Fj7) (Cj7) Echo from the (Fj7)old church steeple, (Cj7) "Stay here with the (Fj7)decent people, (E) Settle down and (Am)marry (G) While (Cj7)you're young." (high notes run: EEDBC)(Am) If I (Gm)go into the (C)world, Su(C7)sanna, Oh, (F)will you (G)wait for (Cj7)me? (Am) If I (Bb)go in(Gm)to the (C)world, Su(Gm7)sanna, (Cm7) (hold) I'll come back (Fj7) (hold) And tell you what I've (E)seen…(hold) The (Fj7)seeds (G)of (Cj7)change (Fj7) (Cj7) Blow across the (Fj7)churchyard to me, (Cj7) Tombstone faces (Fj7)see right through me, (E) Today's so soon to(Am)morrow, (G) And (Cj7)you're old. (high notes run: EEDBC)(Am) If I (Gm)go into the (C)world, Su(C7)sanna, Oh, (F)will you (G)wait for (Cj7)me? (Am) If I (Bb)go in(Gm)to the (C)world, Su(Gm7)sanna, (Cm7) (hold) I'll come back (Fj7) (hold) And tell you what I've (E)seen…(hold) Mis(Fj7)sou(G)ri (Cj7)birds, (Fj7) (Cj7) Flying over (Fj7)old Saint Louis, (Cj7) Hear that song they're (Fj7)singing to me, (E) ”Go into the (Am)world (G) While (Cj7)you're young, (Fj7) (G) While (Cj7)you're young, (Fj7) (G) While (Cj7)you´re young.” (Fj7) (G) (Cj7) © John Stewart, All Rights Reserved janhauenstein@gmx.de and Charlie Woodward www.janhauenstein.com

Old Train Coming Jim Clare Our (Am)little town will (G)keep the memory (Am)burning, Of farm boys who (G)heard their country (Am)call, (Dm)Boys who came home as men in (Am)pieces, And (E)boys who did (E7)not come home at (Am)all. There’s an (G)old train (Am)coming, Train I thought I’d (G)never see a(Am)gain (Dm)Down by Kingdom town she’ll blow her (Am)whistle (E)Soon she’ll come (E7)steamin’ round the (Am)bend. Look over (G)yonder on the (Am)platform, Young girls stand (G)waiting for their (Am)men. (Dm)Can’t you hear the Montezuma (Am)coming? (E)Don’t you smell that (E7)coal smoke on the (Am)wind? (C)Montezuma carried me from (Am)Gettysburg, (C)Old and broken from that awful (E)war. (Am)Empty sleeve a-(E)danglin’ where my (Am)arm (G)used to (Am)be. Reckon I’ll go (E)soldierin’ no (Am)more, no (G)more, (Am)Reckon I’ll go (E)soldierin’ no (Am)more. Been years since a (G)train pulled in this (Am)station, Can’t highball down a (G)broke and a rusty (Am)track, (Dm)Can’t fill a boiler with no (Am)water tank, (E)That old train ain’t (E7)never coming (Am)back. What happened to the (G)bunting and the (Am)bugles? What happened to the (G)marching tunes and (Am)cheers? (Dm)Bunting went for battle flags and (Am)bandages, And (E)I ain’t heard a (E7)bugle tune in (Am)years. (C)Montezuma carried me from (Am)Gettysburg, (C)Old and broken from that awful (E)war. (Am)Empty sleeve a-(E)danglin’ where my (Am)arm (G)used to (Am)be. Reckon I’ll go (E)soldierin’ no (Am)more, no (G)more, (Am) Reckon I’ll go (E)soldierin’ no (Am)more. (Fj7) (G) (G/B) (Am) (A2)(Am) (Fj7) (G) (G/B) (Am) (A2)(Am) Playing baseball (G)barefoot in the (Am)pasture, Skinny-dipping (G)underneath the (Am)bridge, (Dm)Things I loved until the day my (Am)life forever changed, I (E)left my arm on (E7)Cemetery (Am)Ridge. A one-armed man can´t (G)harness up the (Am)horses, Ain´t much good for milking (G)cows or bailing (Am)hay, I (Dm)pray this time we finally learned our (Am)lesson, (E)War ain´t never (E7)worth the price you (Am)pay. (C)Montezuma carried me from (Am)Gettysburg, (C)Old and broken from that awful (E)war. (Am)Empty sleeve a-(E)danglin’ where my (Am)arm (G)used to (Am)be. Reckon I’ll go (E)soldierin’ no (Am)more, no (G)more, (Am) I know I’ll go (E)soldierin’ no (Am)more. (Fj7) (G) (G/B) (Am) (A2)(Am) (Fj7) (G) (G/B) (Am) (A2)(Am) (Am/G) (Am) (Am/G) (Am) © Jim Clare, All Rights Reserved. The way I play it. Got the original chords from Mr. Clare. Meddled with the interludes. janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Halitosis Man Words Jan Hauenstein and Jim Clare/Music Jan Hauenstein Wher(Am)ever he (C)went, wher(D)ever he (E)ran, You (Am)knew (C)he was (D)coming,(Em)(hold) Halitosis (Am)Man. (Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G) (Am)(Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G)(hold) (G/B)(hold) (Am)People gave (D)way when Hali(F)tosis Man passed, A (E)couple of (E7)whiffs, and you'd (Am)feel you'd been (G)gassed. The (Am)choice of the (D)smart was give him (F)plenty of room, Hali(E)tosis Man had breath li(E7)ke...(hold) the Goat of (Am)Doom. (C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) (Am) (C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) (Am)Little kids turned (D)blue and cried when (F)he drew nigh, (E)Dainty ladies (E7)fainted with a (Am)gurgling (G)sigh. (Am)Cats, dogs and (D)canaries just (F)curled up and died, When you (E)saw him comi(E7)ng…(hold) your only chance was run and (Am)hide. (C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) (Am) (C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) Wher(Am)ever he (C)went, wher(D)ever he (E)ran, You (Am)knew (C)he was (D)coming,(Em)(hold) Halitosis (Am)Man. (Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G) (Am)(Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G)(hold) (G/B)(hold) The (Am)black old Devil walked the (Fj7)earth one day, His (E)nostrils flared up, there was this (Am)smell, oy (F)vey!(hold) ‘You´re not (Am)welcome in my place,’ the (Fj7)Devil did say, ‘Try to (E)darken my door, and there´ll be (Am)Hell to (G)pay. I´ll (F)fry your sorry ass, and then, with(G)out delay, I´ll (F)send you as a gift to my (E)friend up the(E7)way.’(hold) But… (Am)There! Another whiff! And Satan´s (Fj7)face turned gray, (E)Suddenly he knew that this was (Am)‘Meet Your Maker’ (G)day, And with a (Cj7)hiss and a groan, he just (Fj7)faded away… (Spoken) And (Cj7)all that was left there on the sidewalk was a (Fj7)stinking smear of ash… Wher(Am)ever he (C)went, wher(D)ever he (E)ran, You (Am)knew (C)he was (D)coming,(Em)(hold) Halitosis (Am)Man. (Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G) (Am)(Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G)(hold) (G/B)(hold) (Am)‘Nobody (D)likes me’, Hali(F)tosis Man sobbed, He (E)sobbed and (E7)sobbed and he (Am)couldn´t be (G)stopped. But (Am)suddenly he (D)caught a (F)whiff of foul air… He (E)shuddered, looked a(E7)round… (hold) and Bad Breath (Am)Woman was there.(C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) (Am) (C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) They (Am)married and made (D)love, had (F)children galore, (E)Pity the poor (E7)people (Am)living next (G)door. For the kids (Am)all have (D)breath like the (F)Goat of Doom, I´m (E)one of (E7)them… (hold) so you´d better make (Am)room. (C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) (Am) (C) (G/B) (Gm/Bb) Wher(Am)ever he (C)went, wher(D)ever he (E)ran, You (Am)knew (C)he was (D)coming,(Em)(hold) Halitosis (Am)Man. (Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G) (Am)(Am)(Am/G)(Am/G)(Am/E)(F)(F)(F/E)(G/D)(G/D)(G)(hold) (G/B)(hold) (Am) Lyrics 24 August and 08, 09 & 11 September 2009 Jan Hauenstein, Goettingen, Germany, and Mr. Clare, Canandaigua, New York, music Jan Hauenstein 08 & 09 September 2009 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Per ogni matematico Angelo Branduardi/Giorgio Faletti (C) (G) (F) (C) (F) (G) (C) (hold) (C) (C/B) (Am) (Am/G) (F) (G) (C) (hold) (C) Per ogni (C/B)mate(Am)matico(Am/G) (F) c'è un senso d'infi(C)ni(G)to (Am) nel dar la caccia ai (Em)numeri già sfug(F)genti di per (G)sè (F) c'è un sogno pita(G)gorico che a (C)me non è ser(F)vito (hold) a(C)desso (G)che nel (F)due per (C)tre so (F)cosa (G)sei per (C)me. (F) (C) Per ogni (C/B)mate(Am)matico(Am/G) (F) che non si è mai pen(C)ti(G)to (Am) d'aver sbagliato un (Em)calcolo ch'è già (F)grave di per (G)sè (F) rimane un senso (G)logico che a (C)me non è ser(F)vito (hold) a(C)desso (G)che nel (F)tre più (C)tre so (F)cosa (G)sei per (C)me. (C/B) (Am) (Am/G) (F) (G) (C) (hold) - Instrumental verse, like first verse - (C) Per ogni (C/B)mate(Am)matico(Am/G) (F) finisce l'infi(C)ni(G)to (Am) se a confermar la (Em)regola è l'eccezi(F)one di per (G)sè (F) ma resta un caso (G)unico che a (C)me non è ser(F)vito (hold) a(C)desso (G)che nell'(F)io più (C)te so (F)cosa (G)sei per (C)me. (C/B) (Am) (Am/G) (F) (G) (C) © Angelo Branduardi & Giorgio Faletti, All Rights Reserved janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com For Each Mathematician Angelo Branduardi/Giorgio Faletti For each mathematician There is a sense of infinity In hunting numbers That are elusive by definition, There is a Pythagorean dream That has not served me, Now that in two out of three I know that you are for me. For each mathematician Who has never regretted Having made a wrong calculation Which is bad enough in itself, A sense of logic remains That has not served me, Now that in three plus three I know that you are for me. For each mathematician Infinity ends If, to confirm the rule, The exception will be lost. But there remains a unique case That has not served me When I am for you And I know that you are for me.

Only Six Thousand Generations Jan Hauenstein (C)Only six (G/B)thousand gene(Am)rations, (A2)(Am) (F) Only two (C)hundred thousand (G)years, By the (F)end of that short (C)spell, If we (E7)haven´t gone to (Am)hell, We can (F)stop guarding the waste And sink some (G)beers. (G/A)(G/B)(G)(G/D) But (C)ain´t that a (Am)mighty long (Am/E)time, (F) I hear you (G)say, (F) Isn´t that a (C)mighty high price (G) we´ll have to pay? (C) Fool, think (Am)twice, (Am/E) and (F)don´t make such a (G)fuss, Some(F)body´ll have to (C)pay up, but it prob´ly won´t be (G)us. Let the (F)Geiger counters (E)count While we´re (Am)sleeping (Am7)safe and (D7)sound, Cher(G)nobyl, (Em) that was so long a(Am)go. The con(F)tainment may be (E7)crumbling, But that´s (Am)just some (Am7)distant (D7)rumbling, And (G)merely a couple (Em)thousand people (Am)died, you know. (C/B) (C)Only six (G/B)thousand gene(Am)rations, (A2)(Am) (F) Only two (C)hundred thousand (G)years, By the (F)end of that short (C)spell, If we (E7)haven´t gone to (Am)hell, We can (F)stop guarding the waste And sink some (G)beers. (G/A)(G/B)(G)(G/D) (C) Sure, with plu(Am)tonium, (Am/E) a little (F)risk may be in(G)volved, But (F)don´t you think that (C)someday that tiny (G)problem will be solved? So (C)children in (Am)Sellafield (Am/E) are (F)dying from that (G)stuff? But (F)we´ve got cheap (C)energy, and for me, that´s good e(G)nough! Let the (F)Geiger counters (E)count With that (Am)soft tick-(Am7)tick-a-tocking (D7)sound, (G) Today, there´s (Em)money to be (Am)made! Let the (F)barrels pile high and (E7)rust, Let them (Am)crumble (Am7)into (D7)dust, (G) Yes, there´s a (Em)snake that lies in (Am)wait, but…(C/B) (C)Only for six (G/B)thousand gene(Am)rations, (A2)(Am) (F) Only for two (C)hundred thousand (G)years, By the (F)end of that short (C)spell, If we (E7)haven´t gone to (Am)hell, We can (F)stop guarding the waste And sink some (G)beers. (G/A)(G/B)(G)(G/D) (C) (G/B) Sink some (C)beers. (C/D)(C/E) (C) (G) (C) Turunc, Turkey, 14 & 16 October 2009 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Labiodental Fricative Love Affair Jan Hauenstein Aka You Make Me Want To Howl (A Near-Close Near-Front Rounded Vowel) (F) (C) (G) (F) (C) (G) (F) (C) (G) Your (F)labio(C)dental (G)fricative, So bene(F)dictively (C)cardio(G)active, Com(F)bustive(C)ly em(G)brasive, (Em)Can I (Am)close the (D)gap With a (F)late(Gm)ral (Bb)alve(Ab)olar (Bb)(Ab)(G)(hold)flap?(G)(G)(hold) Your (F)pre(C)nasalized (G)consonant, (F)Jubi(C)lantly (G)sibilant, So de(F)fiant(C)ly (G)dissonant, (Em)You leave (Am)me no (D)choice, I (F)love your (Gm)breathy (Bb)rhinoglotto(Ab)philiac (Bb)(Ab)(G)(hold)voice.(G)(G)(hold) (Em)You (Am)make me want to (D)howl A (F)near-close (C)near-front rounded (D)vowel, (Em)My broom (Am)needs a (D)duster, Let´s (Eb)hide in that consonant (D)cl(Eb)us(D)(hold)ter.(D)(D)(hold) (F)Your bi(C)labial (G)click (F)Always (C)does the trick (G)double quick, (F)Makes me want to (C)shake my (G)walking stick, (Em)How it (Am)makes my brain go (D)pop, I´ll (F)give you my (Gm)best (Bb)epi(Ab)glottal (Bb)(Ab)(G)(hold)stop.(G)(G)(hold) Your (F)clefting (C)palatal e(G)jective, Ob(F)jective(C)ly de(G)fective, (F)Lends a con(C)nective per(G)spective. I (Em)need you (Am)in my happy (D)home With your (F)pulmonically (Gm)plosive (Bb)pho(Ab)netic (Bb)(Ab)(G)(hold)palindrome.(G)(G)(hold) (Em)You (Am)make me want to (D)howl A phono(F)logically a(C)ware circumflected (D)vowel, Your (Em)monophthongic (Am)extrametri(D)cality (Eb)Reeks of oxytonic sexu(D)a(Eb)li(D)(hold)ty.(D)(D)(hold) Your (F)pitch-vari(C)ated (G)trill With (F)nary a (C)dental into(G)nation spill (F)Makes me want to (C)climb the (G)hard palate hill, (Em)And then (Am)cross the strictured (D)bridge That (F)leads to (Gm)your (Bb)alve(Ab)olar (Bb)(Ab)(G)(hold)ridge.(G)(G)(hold) But your (F)voiced (C)dental im(D)plosive, (C)Isn´t it just a (D)tad cor(Em)rosive? And your (Am)vowel rounded(D)ness (G)does not (G/F#)really (Em)sing, (F)Gimme back that (C)diamond en(D)gagement ring! (C)Keep your voiced (D)retroflex (Em)affricates, I (Am)say good(D)(hold)bye with (C)duplex per(D7)ception re(G)grets. Belatedly dedicated to Lena for passing her English exam in style, and, to an enunciatedly lesser degree, to Noam Chomsky and Professor Gardner. Jan Hauenstein, Roemoe, Denmark, finished Göttingen, 19 March 2009 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

The Baltimore Case Fred Grittner/Jan Hauenstein (G) (B7) (Em) (Am) (D) (D4) (G)What did he know And (Em)when did he know it… No (Am)signs of remorse, (D)He’d never show it. I’ve (G)got a lot (G/F#)of (Em)questions That won’t (Am)flee in the (D)dark. He can (Em)masquerade And he can (Cj7)spin, He can (B7)calculate angels On the (Em)head of the pin, Yes, in (Am)Baltimore(D) (D4)(hold) You had a (G)king.(G/F#) (Em/E) (Em/e) (C) (C/E) (D) (G) (G/F#) (Em/E) (Em/e) (C) (B7/D#) (Em/e) (Em/B) (Em/E) (Em/F#) (G)There was a story, (Em)Buried in coal. You (Am)had to ignite it By (D)losing control. And (G)when you (G/F#)saw the (Em)hero, You (Am)knew you picked (D)wrong. Too (Em)late to escape it, The (Cj7)hook´s deep inside, They’re (B7)reeling you in, So what (Em)good is your pride? But in (Am)Baltimore(D) (D4)(hold) You had a (G)king.(G/F#) (Em/E) (Em/e) (C) (C/E) (D) (G) (G/F#) (Em/E) (Em/e) (C) (C/E) (D) (G)Bal(G/F#)ti(Em)more, (C)You must have (B7/D#)thought you were a(Em)bove the fray.(Am) (D) (G)Bal(G/F#)ti(Em)more, (Am)You had to (D)leave just (C)when you (B7/D#)wanted to (Em)stay. (Am) (D) (G) (B7) (Em) (Am) (D) (D4) The (G)signs are upsetting, (Em)So are the cards. You took (Am)three from the dealer And (D)made four discards. Your (G)mind has (G/F#)be(Em)trayed you, But you (Am)don’t see that (D)yet. (Em)When will you know it, How (Cj7)long is the path That (B7)runs through your conscience To the (Em)vineyard of wrath? Yes, in (Am)Baltimore(D) (D4)(hold) You had a (G)king.(G/F#) (Em/E) (Em/e) (C) (C/E) (D) (G) (G/F#) (Em/E) (Em/e) (C) (B7/D#) (Em/e) (Em/B) (Em/E) Words Fred Grittner © 2002, music Jan Hauenstein, Turunc, Turkey, 05 October 2009 http://www.nytimes.com/1991/12/05/opinion/rough-justice-for-dr-baltimore.html janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Sins of Many Fathers Words Terry Lee Ransom/Music Jan Hauenstein (G) (Cj7) (G) (G)(G/F#)(Em) Though they’re the sins of many (Am)fathers, (Am7) (D7) They’re all I (D7/4)have to get me (G)home, (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/D)(Em) The seeds of all we be(Am)lieve in,(Am7) Planted (D7)shallow, (D7/4)late and left a(G)lone. (Cj7) (G) (G)(G/F#)(Em) From the ancient soil of despe(Am)ration, (Am7) (D7) Gently (D7/4)raised through tears of (G)rage, (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/D)(Em) A book of hope and rear(Am)ranging,(Am7) With (D7)faded portraits,(D7/4) page to (G)page. (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/B)(Am) So face each day with hope and (B7)patience, (B7/D#) (Em) Leave the past alone for (Am)now, And (Am7)don´t let go of (D)all you know that’s (Em)holy, For that (Am)hold us all to(D7)gether, (D7/4) (D7) some(G)how. (Cj7) (G) (D) (Em) Tension gives us (Am)reasons, (Am7) (D7) Burdens(D7/4) both proud and (G)small, (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/D)(Em) Petty misunder(Am)standing,(Am7) Forgiving (D7)some, (D7/4) but never (G)all. (Cj7) (G) (G)(G/F#)(Em) Cursing darkness, changing (Am)seasons, (Am7) (D7) Seeking (D7/4)comfort in the (G)known, (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/D)(Em) Uncertain faith, that is our (Am)nature,(Am7) And the (D7)times when (D7/4)we are not a(G)lone. (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/B)(Am) So face each day with faith and (B7)courage, (B7/D#) (Em) A steady hand upon the (Am)plow, And (Am7)don´t let go of (D)all you know that’s (Em)holy, For that (Am)hold us all to(D7)gether, (D7/4) (D7) some(G)how. (Cj7) (G) (D) (Em) So we talk of complex (Am)problems, (Am7) (D7) Speaking (D7/4)clearly, time to (G)time, (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/D)(Em) Finding logical con(Am)clusions,(Am7) That (D7)seldom, if (D7/4)ever, even (G)rhyme. (Cj7) (G) (G)(G/F#)(Em) We play tricks to span the (Am)hours, (Am7) (D7) Passing (D7/4)time in mindless (G)ways, (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/D)(Em) Unaware of all the (Am)treasures(Am7) That are (D7)hidden in the (D7/4)flowing of the (G)days. (G)(G/A)(G/B)(G/B)(Am) So face each day with love and (B7)kindness, (B7/D#) (Em) Savor wind upon your (Am)brow, And (Am7)don´t let go of (D)all you know that’s (Em)holy, For that (Am)hold us all to(D7)gether, (D7/4) some(D7)times, some(G)how. (Cj7) (D7/4)(D7) (G) Words © 1997 Terry Lee Ransom, Music Jan Hauenstein, Göttingen, 14 & 15 April 2010 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Passing Through Tulsa Tom Paxton Capo 1st fret (Am) (Bb) (C) (F) Passing through Tulsa at (Am)four in the morning, (Bb) Crossing the Arkansas (C)one more time. (F) Moon on the river is (Am)lower than usual, (Bb) Can’t get much lower than this (C)gas (C7)gauge (C)of (F)mine. (F/E) (Dm) All the lights in Tulsa could not (Am)warm up my heart now, (Dm) That is something only (Am) you would know. (F) Passing through Tulsa at (Am)four in the morning, I (Bb)really got (C)nowhere to (F)go. (Am) (Bb) (C) (F) Stoppin’ for gas and a (Am)bottle of iced tea, (Bb) I ask the kid if he’s (C)new around here. (F) He’s up from Dallas, he (Am)moved here in ’80. (Bb) I had a hell of a (C)fu(C7)ture (C)that (F)year. (F/E) (Dm) Movin’ and shakin’, I was (Am)always in motion, My (Dm)name in the papers, a (Am)man in the know, Now I’m (F) passing through Tulsa at (Am)four in the morning, But I (Bb)really got (C)nowhere to (F)go. (F/E) (Dm) Sun’s coming up in my (Am) rear view mirror now, (Bb)Opening a wide blue (F)sky. (Dm) I hope the sun helps me (Am)see things clearer now, As (Bb)mile after meaningless (C)mile rolls by. (F) Up in the visor, I (Am) stash all my photographs, (Bb) All of them taken a (C)long time ago. (F) You in the swimming pool, (Am) you on your bicycle, (Bb) You on the river at (C)Cape (C7)Gi(C)rar(F)deau. (F/E) (Dm) Gone with the Arkansas, (Am) swept by the current now, (Dm) Where you are now only (Am)you and God know. Me, I’m (F) passing through Tulsa at (Am)four in the morning, And I (Bb)really got (C)nowhere to (F)go. (F/E) (Dm) Sun’s coming up in my (Am) rear view mirror now, (Bb)Opening a wide blue (F)sky. (Dm) I hope the sun helps me (Am)see things clearer now, As (Bb)mile after meaningless (C)mile rolls by. (F) Up in the visor, I (Am)stash all my photographs, (Bb) All of them taken a (C)long time ago. (F) You in the swimming pool, (Am)you on your bicycle, (Bb) You on the river at (C)Cape (C7)Gi(C)rar(F)deau. (F/E) (Dm) Gone with the Arkansas, (Am) swept by the current now, (Dm) Where you are now only (Am)you and God know. Me, I’m (F) passing through Tulsa at (Am)four in the morning, And I (Bb)really got (C)nowhere to (F)go. Me, I’m passing through Tulsa at (Am)four in the morning, And I (Bb)really got (C)nowhere to (F)go. (Am) (Bb) (C) (F) (Am) (Bb) (C) (F) (Am) (Bb) (C) (F) (Am) (Bb) (C) (F) © Tom Paxton, All Rights Reserved This is the way I play and sing it janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

Procrastination Blues Words Fred Grittner/Music Jan Hauenstein (C)Three months ago They (E7)gave me a date, They (F)said we’ll need it (D7)then, So (C)don’t (C)be (A7short)(hold)late. I (D7)swore to myself I would (G)pay my (G7)(hold)dues, Now I’m (C)going in circles, Now I’m (F)going in circles, Now I’m (Ab7)going in circles (Ab7)with (Ab7)(hold)those Procrastination (Ab7)Bl(G7)u(C)es, mm(Ab7)mm(G7)mm(C)...(G7) (C)(hold) The (C)day is coming When the (E7)deal goes down, I’ll be a (F)stand-up (D7)guy Or an ex(C)cu(C)sing (A7short)(hold)clown. I keep (D7)telling myself There’s (G)rocks in my (G7)(hold)shoes, I (C)try to get traction, (F)Try to get some satisfaction, Try to (Ab7)spring into action, de(Ab7)spite (Ab7)(hold)those Procrastination (Ab7)Bl(G7)u(C)es, mm(Ab7)mm(G7)mm(C)...(G7) (C)(hold) The (C)future is a vague And a (E7)vaporous state, Be(F)yond the far ho(D7)rizon To(C)morrow (C)must (A7short)(hold)wait. My (D7)mind is as sticky As (G)model airplane (G7)(hold)glue, (C)I’m stuck in neutral, (F) I’m still stuck in neutral, (Ab7) I’m so stuck in neutral (Ab7)with (Ab7)(hold)those Procrastination (Ab7)Bl(G7)u(C)es, mm(Ab7)mm(G7)mm(C)...(G7) (C)(hold) - Instrumental, first four lines of verse - (D7)I can feel it coming, I (G)know what I must (G7)(hold)do, It’s (C)hard to grab the shift stick It´s so (F)hard to grab the shift stick (Ab7)Where´s the goddamned shift stick? (Ab7)Got (Ab7)(hold)those Procrastination (Ab7)Bl(G7)u(C)es, mm(Ab7)mm(G7)mm(C)...(G7) (C) (C7) Words © Fred Grittner 1999, some minor changes Jan Hauenstein, music Jan Hauenstein, Göttingen, 26 January 2009 janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com

These Days Jackson Browne (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) Well, (C)I've (Em7/B)been out (Am)walking,(Am/G) (Fj7) I don't (C)do (Em7/B)that much (Am)talking(Am/G) These (Fj7)days, these (C)da(G)ys. These (Fj7)days I seem to think a lot About the things that I forgot to (C)do For (G)you, (E7) And (Am)all of the (Em7/B)times I had a (Fj7)chance to. (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) So (C)I´ve (Em7/B)stopped my (Am)scheming,(Am/G) (Fj7) I don´t (C)do (Em7/B)all that (Am)dreaming(Am/G) These (Fj7)days, these (C)da(G)ys. These (Fj7)days I seem to think about How all these changes came about my (C)way, (G) (E7) And I (Am)wonder if I´ll (Em7/B)see another (Fj7)highway. (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) Well, (C)I (Em7/B)had a (Am)lover,(Am/G) (Fj7) I don´t (C)think I´ll (Em7/B)risk a(Am)nother(Am/G) These (Fj7)days, these (C)da(G)ys. And (Fj7)if I seem to be afraid To live the life that I have made in (C)song, (G)Mm mm mm mm,(E7) Well, it's (Am)just ´cause (Em7/B)I've been (Fj7)losing (C)Soo(Em7/B)oo(Am)oo(Am/G)oo (Fj7)long. (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) But (C)I'll (Em7/B)keep on (Am)moving,(Am/G) moving (Fj7)on. Things are (C)bound to (Em7/B)be im(Am)proving(Am/G) These (Fj7)days, these (C)da(G)ys. These (Fj7)days I sit on corner stones And count the time in quarter tones to (C)ten, My (G)friend.(E7) Please don't con(Am)front me (Em7/B)with my fai(Fj7)lures, (hold) I had not forgotten them. (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) (C) (Em7/B) (Am) (Am/G) (Fj7) (C) © Jackson Browne, All Rights Reserved This is a composite of Jackson Browne´s, Iain Matthews´ and Tom Rush´s versions. janhauenstein@gmx.de www.janhauenstein.com