Ray Stevens - The Haircut Song Chords

The Haircut Song--Ray Stevens

Any corrections welcome, of course (especially with the Latin...I've only read
"Julius Caesar" so many times, not even sure I can SPELL it correctly).

CHORUS:
C                           F               C
When you get a haircut, you better go back home
C                             G
When you get a haircut, get a barber you have known
      F                                  C                Am
Since you were a little bitty boy sittin in that booster chair
             C                                 F                   C
Or you might look like Larry Moe or Curly if a stranger cuts your hair, Oh Lord


C                                          F
Well Butte Montana just a passin through, one thing I just had to do
C                               G               F
Had to get a haircut, and I was worried for my hair
C                                           F
Well I had a feeling of impending doom, the minute I stepped into that room
    C             G                F         C     F
And laid my eyes upon that barber chair


(spoken)
Am
It was a macho barbershop, hair dryers mounted on a rifle rack, wasn't no mirrors
Barberchair was a Peterbuilt, barber walked in he was huge
7 feet tall 300 pounds of spring steel and rawhide
Wearin a hardhat, chewing a cigar, had a t-shirt on that said I hate musicians
Threw me in the chair, sneered, and said what'll it be pal
Now a lot of people would be intimidated in a situation like this, I was not
I am what I am, play my piano, sing my little songs
I looked him right in the eye and said, I'm a logger, just up from Coon's Bay Oregon
Been toppin trees, quite possibly the toughest man in the entire world
He said alright, gave me a haircut, I walked out of there and my hair was gone
Make Kojak look like Bill Golden Yeah, had a tremendous craving to operate heavy equipment
Now you may think that that Butte Montana haircut was the worst any man could ever get
Wrong


Well a few months later I was in LA, truckin along on a smoggy day
Needed a haircut so bad I looked like Bozo the clown
I was lookin shaggy and not too good, I'd put it off as long as I could
Lord, I hate to get a haircut out of town

(spoken)
Well I walked in realized immediately this guy was into punk rock
The walls were done in black leather, had chains and whips and handcuffs hangin on it
Barber walked in he had orange hair, black mascara, stainless steel teeth
Black leather jacket with zinc studs
He threw me in the chair hit me a couple times whap-whap, chained me down
Threw a Nazi flag over me, said 
I'm gonna tell you something might make you a little nervous, I laughed, ha ha ha
I said what could possibly make me nervous
He said, I'm gay
No problem, I'm not threatened in any way, I mean, I'm secure in my manhood
Everything's cool, I am what I am play my piano sing my little songs
I looked him right in the eye and said
I'm a logger, played football in highschool, I was in the Marine Corps
He said alright and he gave me a haircut
I walked out of their friends my hair was purple
Well, at least that mohawk section down the middle was purple
Had a white streak down one side, other side looked like Mr. T
Had a couple saftey pins in my cheeks, felt a teeny bit conspicuous
Luckily my next job was in San Fransisco 
Shoot I got up there I didn't even stand out at, wasn't even close
Those people thought I was an insurance salesman


Well a few months later I was way down South, grits and gravy and a hush your mouth
My hair so long I was startin to look like a man in drag
It was then that the Sheriff came up and said, boy you got too much hair on your head
You better get yourself a haircut, or a dog tag

(spoken)
Well when I stepped into the shop I realized immediately
That I was dealing with a born-again barber
Don't see too many barbershops with a steeple, had an organ in the corner, choir
An usher led me to the barber chair
Barber walked in started saying grace
"Oh Lord for these haircuts we are about to recieve may we be truly blessed
Dominus, possum, pox probiscus, post mortem, et tu brute, puella, carberundem"
He was sorta half Baptist half Catholic, sort of a Captist
He started cuttin my hair, preachin at the same time
I mean he's a wild man scissors and razors a flyin around my head
He's talkin 'bout liquor and wild women and music and sex and the evils of dancing
And the music business in general
Then he looked down at me and said, "What do you do for a living?"
Now I'm not ashamed of what I do for a livin
Workin bars and casinos, around liquor and wild women
I just play my piano, sing my little songs
I looked him right in the eye and said, "I run this church for loggers"


CHORUS


On the spoken verses, feel free to add some hammer-on's or pull-off's for fill effect.