Seven Day A Week Man Blues chords by Janice Harrington

SimplifiedC · F · G · F#dim · Gm …

GuitarPianoUkulele

C
F
G
F#dim
Gm
Cm
Eb

Verse 1
C 
I  want everybody to be quiet
Don't want no one to speak
except the guitar player
F 
I want everybody to be quiet
Don't you moan, don't you whisper,
don't you weep
C 
F 
Except the guitar player
G 
C 
Because I'm going  tell y 'all
G 
about all my men.
C 
Now being a divorcee, ladies,
I said spice is the variety of life.
And I like a lot of variety
with my spice, because ladies,
if you've got a man that ain't acting right,
don't take no stuff off of him, you hear me?
Be like me, honey.
I got one for each day of the week
F 
F#dim 
Gm 
C 
F 
G 
C 
I got a Monday, man
F 
C 
I didn't wash my clothes
F 
I got a Monday, man
C 
Eyes that wash my clothes
G 
I'm a tell y 'all about my Tuesday man
F 
I see you on my Pantyhose
C 
F 
F#dim 
C 
G 
I  got a
C 
F 
Wednesday man
C 
Cooks my beans and rice
Ham hocks, collard greens,
F 
neck bones, sweet potato pie
My Wednesday man
C 
Cooks my beans and rice
F 
C 
I'm -a tell y 'all about
G 
my Thursday man
F 
Can't tell you what he does
C 
Oh, sure treats  me nice
F#dim 
G 
Oh yeah, come on now
C 
G 
Hey blues, come on!

Interlude 1
C 
F 
F#dim 
Cm 
C 
F 
C 
F 
C 
F 
C 
G 
F 
C 
F 
F#dim 
G 
C 
F 
C 
F 
C 
G 
F 
C 
F 
F#dim 
C 
F#dim 
G 
C 

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Verse 2
F 
I got a Friday man, the
one that's married
C 
but I can't call out his name.
You see, I don't kiss and tell,
no,
I don't put my business in the street,
F 
but I like y 'all and I want to tell
you about my Friday man.
C 
But nah, he's married and I, I,
I can't call out his name.
G 
So instead, I'll tell you about my Saturday man,
the old Swiss banker I call.
F 
Gives me all my spendin'
C 
F 
F#dim 
G 
change
C 
Yeah, Sunday man
F 
Best one, the best one of them all
C 
An old guitar player
F 
My Sunday, Sunday man
C 
Best one of them all
G 
Honey, well, I need some lovin'
F 
G 
My Sunday morning
Eb 
The one I call Dr. Feelgood
The one I call Dr. Good thing
The one that helps me out in the midnight hour,
you know how it is,
girls, when you're laying in bed all by yourself.
Your man comes tippin' home
at four o in the morning,
said he's been out down to the local club,
you know, which really
closes at two.
Comes steppin' home
with lipstick stains on his collar,
smellin' like gin,
and ain't got no money.
Now, Ken, where were you
until four o in the morning?
I ain't goin' for no long stories,
and I don't believe that shit stuff anyway.
Say what? Uh -uh, honey,
no.
But where's the money?
You ain't got no money.
Well, my jaws are really tight,
but girl, at four o 'clock in the morning,
when he starts to nibble at my
ear.
Oh, he knows how to get to me now.
When he starts to nibble at my toes.
The big one, the big one,
baby, the big one. have mercy.
And he starts to run his tongue
up and down my body.
Higher, higher, higher.
Oh, stop.
Oh,
Oh, stop, baby, you're actin' good stuff
I gotta roll on over
And let him slide on in
Cause my Sunday man
C 
F 
F#dim 
C 
never stops
you