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# 


[Refrão]
    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