Tom: C
Introdução: C F Am F G
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This town ain't big, this town ain't small, It's a little of both they say.
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Our ball club may be minor league but at least it's triple A.
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We sit below the Marlboro man, above the right field wall.
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We do the wave all by ourself, Hey Ump, a blind man coulda made that call
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We like our beer flat as can be, We like our dogs with mustard and relish.
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We got a great pitcher what's his name, Well we can't even spell it.
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We don't worry about the pennant much, We just like to see the boys hit it deep.
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There's nothing like the view from the cheap seats.
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That local band is back in town, They got a kinda minor league sound.
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They're not that bad, they're not that good, But all in all it's understood.
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We wanna dance, they wanna play, We wouldn't have it any other way.
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Now the majors called up oh what's his name, And one more buildin' rises tall.
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And suddenly we're all grown up, And this old town not quite so small.
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But I'll always miss the middle size town, In the middle of the middle-west.
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With no name pitchers and local bands, And mustard and relish and all the rest.
Cheap seats