In the ghetto    (intro) (midi)

 

                 C                     Em

1. As the snow flies, on a cold and grey Chicago morning

         F                     G7                           C

    a poor little baby child is born in the ghetto.

                                                       Em

    And his mamma cries, `cause if there`s something she don`t need,

               F                     G7                             C

     it`s another hungry mouth to feed , in the ghetto.

                                G                                             F           C

    People don`t you understand, the child needs a helping hand,

          F                            G7                                C

    or he`ll grow to be an angry young man some day.

                            G                                  F          C

    Take a look at you and me, are we too blind to see?

         F                   Em                         Dm                 G7

    Or do we simply turn our heads and look the other way?

 

                     C                          Em

2. Well, the world turns,  and a hungry little boy with a running nose,

       F                                   G7                                 C

    plays in the street as the cold wind blows, in the ghetto.

                                                     Em

    And his hunger burns,  and he starts to roam the streets at night,

              F                                        G7                                     C

 and he learns how to steal and he learns how to fight,  in the ghetto.

 

             G                                               F                             C

3. And then one night in desperation a young man breaks away,

           F                Em              Dm

    he buys a gun, steals a car, tries to run, but he don`t get far

                   C                              Em

    and his mamma cries, as the crowd gathers round an angry young man,

              F                                     G7                                 C

    face down in the street with his gun in his hand, in the ghetto.

                                                           Em

    And as her young man dies,  on a cold and grey Chicago morning,

        F                        G7                           C

    another little baby child is born in the ghetto.   

 

    (Elvis Presley)