Clean Up Your Own Backyard

E                               
Back porch preacher preaching at me
E                                    E7
Acting like he wrote the golden rules
A7
Shaking his fist and speeching at me
E
Shouting from his soap box like a fool

       B7
Come Sunday morning he's lying in bed
                A7
With his eye all red, with the wine in his head
                             A7
Wishing he was dead when he oughta be
                      B7         E
Heading for Sunday school
 
E                   A7
Clean up your own backyard
A7                                       E
Oh don't you hand me none of your lines
                   B7
Clean up your own backyard
 A7                                           E
You tend to your business, I’ll tend to mine

Drugstore cowboy criticizing
Acting like he's better than you and me
Standing on the sidewalk supervising
Telling everybody how they ought to be

Come closing time 'most every night
He locks up tight and out go the lights
And he ducks out of sight and he cheats on his wife
With his employee

Clean up your own backyard
Oh don't you hand me none of your lines
Clean up your own backyard
You tend to your business, I’ll tend to mine

Armchair quarterback's always moanin'
Second guessing people all day long
Pushing, fooling and hanging on in
Always messing where they don't belong

When you get right down to the nitty-gritty
Isn't it a pity that in this big city 
Not a one a'little bitty man'll admit
He could have been a little bit wrong

Clean up your own backyard
Oh don't you hand me, don't you hand me none of your lines
Clean up your own backyard
You tend to your business, I’ll tend to mine
Clean up your own backyard
You tend to your business, I’ll tend to mine

Transcribed by Brandon Hogg