Mimi And Richard Farina — Hard-Loving Loser

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   Song Title: Hard-Loving Loser
   Artist: Mimi & Richard Farina
   Album: Reflections In A Crystal Wind (1965)
 

          A 
    Well, He's the kind of guy puts on a motorcycle jacket 
                                             A7
    and he weighs about a hundred and five. (man)
    A
    He's the kind of surfer got a ho-daddy haircut

    and you wonder how he'll ever survive.  
    A
    He's the kind of frogman wearing twenty pounds of counter weights
                                          A7  
    and sinking in the sea like a stone. (and)
    A
    He's the kind of soldier got no sense of direction

    and they send him in the jungle alone.
                 D                              D7 
    But when the frost's on the pumpkin and the little girls are jumpin' 
           A                     A7                E7     
    he's a hard-loving son-of-a-gun. He's got them waiting down stairs
            D7                        A                            A7 
    just to sample his affaifs; They call him a spoonful of fun! (man)

    2nd Verse
    He's the kind of person going riding on a skateboard
    And his mind raging out of control (and)
    He's the kind of person gonna drive a Maserati
    Puts the key inside the wrong little whole.
    He's the kind of ski-bum tearing wild down the mountain,
    Hits a patch where there ain't any snow. (and)
    He's the kind of cowboy got a hot trigger finger,
    Shoots his boot, 'cause he's drawing kind of slow.
    But when it comes time for rolling, he's an expert at bowling,
    Sets the pins up and lays them right down.
    He's got them taking off their heels,and they like the way he feels,
    And they call him a carnival clown.

    3rd Verse
    Well now, he's got a parachute , screaming out "Geronimo," 
    And makes a little hole in the ground. (and)
    He's the kind of logger when the man hollers "timber,"
    Has to stop and look around for the sound. (and)
    He's the kind of artist rents a groovy little attic
    And discovers that he can't grow a beard. (and)
    He's a human cannonball, come in for a landing
    And wonders where the net disappeared.
    But when he takes off his shoes , man it won't come as news
    That they're lining up in threes and in twos.
    He's got them fainting on the floor,got them begging for some more
    And they call him what ever they choose.
    
    Solo
    4th Verse = Repeat 1st Verse. Fade out on E7

    Transcribed by Jackie Don Loe
    Dallas,Texas - April  4/28/04 
           
    zoom..................		
    

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