Sunday Morning Coming Down (chromatic)
by Kris Kristofferson · tab for chromatic harmonica
Next note
This plays the notes in order so you can hear how the tune goes. Tabs don’t record rhythm, so for the timing, listen to the original on YouTube. Tap any note in the tab to start from there.
Your browser didn’t allow the microphone. Check the site’s microphone permission, then try again.
Mic
We can’t hear anything yet. Play a little louder or move closer, and check your browser is using the right microphone.
You’re playing: –
flatin tunesharp
Your playing is analysed on your device. Nothing is recorded or uploaded.
Record yourself with your phone’s voice memo app, then upload it. The coach marks every note you hit or missed.
A synthesised player covers the first 40 notes, with two mistakes.
–
The tab
4 = blow hole 4-4 = draw hole 4’ = bend< = slide in
Well I woke up Sun-day morn-ing,
With no way to hold my head
that did-n't hurt.
And the beer I had for break-fast
Was-n't bad,
So I had one more for des-sert.
Then I fum-bled through my
clos-et for my clothes,
And found my clean-est dir-ty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stum-bled down the stairs
to meet the day.
I'd smoked my brain the night be-fore,
With cig-a-rettes
and songs that I'd been pick-in'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cuss-in' at a can that he was kick-ing.
Then I crossed the emp-ty street
'n caught the Sun-day smell
of some-one fry-in' chick-en.
And it took me back to some-thin'
That I'd lost some-how,
some-where a-long the way.
On the Sun-day morn-ing side-walks,
Wish-in' Lord, that I was stoned,
'Cause there's some-thing in a Sun-day,
Makes a bod-y, feel a-lone,
And there's noth-in' short of dy-in'
Half as lone-some, as the sound,
On the sleep-in' cit-y side walks,
Sun-day morn-in' com-in' down,
And there's noth-in' short of dy-in'
Half as lone-some, as the sound,
On the sleep-in' cit-y side walks,
Sun-day morn-in' com-in' down,
Sun-day morn-in' com-in' down.
In the park I saw a dad-dy,
With a laugh-in' lit-tle girl
That he was swing-in'
And I stopped be-side a Sun-day school
And lis-tened to the song
that they were sing-in'
Then I head-ed back for home,
And some-where far a-way
a lone-ly bell was ring-in'
And it ech-oed thru the can-yons,
Like the dis-ap-pear-ing dreams
of yes-ter-day
On the Sun-day morn-ing side-walks,
Wish-in' Lord, that I was stoned,
'Cause there's some-thing in a Sun-day,
Makes a bod-y, feel a-lone,
And there's noth-in' short of dy-in'
Half as lone-some, as the sound,
On the sleep-in' cit-y side walks,
Sun-day morn-in' com-in' down,