Blues 11 吉他谱

I guess it was about 11,
Jimmi Tinker found it to stick.
He needed something to sort it out,
Yeah he needed a quick fix.

So faster than a speeding bullet,
Whips a Spatula from his nose.
He took it to the frying pan,
And saw the power it bestows.

Spatula.
Every Bachelor needs a spatula.
Spatula.
Every Bachelor needs a spatula.

I guess it was 11 o' 1,
Jimmi opens up his secret stash.
Checks around for the C.I.A,
Then pulls out the habberdash.

Flying on his magic carpet,
Spatula clutched in his arms.
The haberdashery was all shut up,
On his way to ashabahgan.

Spatula.
Every Bachelor needs a spatula.
Spatula.
Every Bachelor needs a spatula.

3 AM the following day,
And Jimmi's lying in a broken mess.
The habberdash is all used up,
And he's clothed in a purple dress.

He stands up with the sun in his eyes,
As a monkey-boy goes wondering by.
And when all hope is lost,
With a spatula, hope will never die.

Spatula.
Every Bachelor needs a spatula.
Spatula.
Every Bachelor needs a spatula