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Almighty Malachi Professional Bowling God Ukulele Chords

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            A l m i g h t y   M a l a c h i ,   P r o f e s s i o n a l
                              B o w l i n g   G o d
                          ( R A D I O   V E R S I O N )
                            S T E P H E N   L Y N C H
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   +--------------------------PLEASE NOTE--------------------------+
   + This file is Jordan Lapping’s own work and represents his     +
   + interpretation of the song. You may only use this file for    +
   + private study, scholarship, or research. The contents may not +
   + be duplicated for use with other websites without written     +
   + permission. Thank you for understanding. Enjoy.               +
   +---------------------------------------------------------------+


Tabbed by Jordan Lapping

Standard E Tuning, Capo 1st Fret [All chords relative to Capo]


 CHORDS USED:
    C    F    C    A    C  Cmaj9
e]--0----0----2----0----3----3--|
B]--2----1----3----0----0----0--|
G]--2----0----2----1----0----0--|
D]--2----2----0----2----0----0--|
A]--0----3---------2----2----0--|
E]-----------------0----3----2--|



 INTRO:
  E - C (x4)


 VERSE 1:
   E    C   E        C      E    C    E    C
  Yooouuuu watch me on your T.V.
   E  C      E      C      E    C    E    C
  Saaaying that my job is easy
   E  C    E     C      E      C    E    C
  Saaaying I am not athletic
   E    C      E      C         E    C    E    C   Cmaj9
  Yooouuuu think my sport's pathetic
A                                                             E    C
  But you can't judge me 'till you walked a mile in my bowling shoes


 INTERLUDE:
  E - C (x3)


 VERSE 2:
   E    C     E         C       E    C    E    C
  Sooooooo I don't get all the ladies
   E    C       E           C       E    C    E    C
  Aaaannnd my clothes are from the '80s
  E    C     E           C       E      C    E    C   Cmaj9
  I'mmmmmm known throughout the vallies
A 
  As the prophet of the alleys


 CHORUS 1:
C           A        F      C            A       F      C
  And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
         A      F    C       C       C
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling God
                A     F       C                A       F        C
  The smell of resin gets my high, kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
         A      F    C       C                       E    C
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling, the Bowling... God


 INTERLUDE:
  E - C (x3)


 VERSE 3:
   E    C     E            C         E    C    E    C
  Goooooot a ball that's smooth and all black
     E    C     E      C     E        C    E    C
  I keeeeeep it in my lucky ball-sack
     E    C     E       C     E    C    E    C   Cmaj9
  I geeeeeet a feeling in my soul
A 
  As I finger every hole...


 CHORUS 2:
C           A        F      C            A       F      C
  And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
         A      F    C       C       C
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling God
                A     F       C                A       F        C
  The smell of resin gets my high, kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
         A      F    C       C
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling, the Bowling...


 BRIDGE:
   E            C               E             C
  Not a single man will try to beat Almighty Malachi
   E                 C           E                     C
  All who challenge me are slain - "Come on, fuckers, pick a lane!"
   E                C             E               C
  Marshall Holman, Gary Dickens; get in line for your ass kickins'
   E               C          E                 C
  John Petraglia, Norm Duke; you're so lame it makes me puke
   E              C              E                 C
  Who among the pro-bowl sector dares to don his wrist protector?
   E               C              E                  C
  Not that pussy, Nelson Burton; tells me that his wrist is hurtin'
    E                  C                          E                 C
  "Hey, Mark Roth and Earl 'The Pearl', are you scared to give the ball a hurl?"
        E                      C                   E                          C
  How about 'Dicky' Weber and his son, Pete? I'll turn the motherfuckers to cream of wheat!


 CHORUS 3:
C           A        F      C            A       F      C
  And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
         A      F    C       C       C
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling God
                A     F       C                A       F        C
  The smell of resin gets my high, kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
         A      F    C       C
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling, the Bowling...
               C  A  F   C  A  F    C  A  F   C    C            C
  The Bowling Gooooooooooooooood! Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaah! The Bowling... God



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