G                         A                         C      G
My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus (oh my lordy it's that...) 
               A
It's that kind of mornin'
C                 D 
Really was that kind of night 
C                                  G             Em
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
         A                              A7               D              D7        G
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night 


                      D                 
Went down to the snake pit 
             G
To drink a little beer
         D 
Listen to the jukebox
                     G 
Merle was comin' in clear 
Em
All of a sudden I wad'n alone 
A
Pickin' country music with ol' Joe Bones
D
Duval Street was rockin' 
D7
My eyes they starting poppin' 

                Em
Because there she sat at the corner of the bar 
       A
As I broke another string on my ol' guitar 
D
Someone call a cab 
D7
Lady won'tcha pay my tab 

Chorus: 
And now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus 
(oh my lordy it's that...) 
It's that kinda mornin' 
Really was that kinda night 
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin' 
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night 

Gotta get a little orange juice 
And a Darvon for my head 
I can't spend all day 
Baby layin' in the bed 

I'm goin' down to Fausto's get some chocolate milk 
Can't spend my life in yer sheets of silk 
I've got to find my way 
Crawl out and greet the day 

Chorus: 
But now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus 
(oh my lordy it's that...) 
It's that kinda mornin' 
Really was that kinda night 
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin' 
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night 

Let me tell ya, I be roarin' Friday night 
I mean I'll be 
Roarin' 
Friday