Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Trouble / Guitar Man , by - Elvis Presley. Song from the album Elvis - Nbc Tv Special, in the genre Рок-н-роллRelease date: 30.12.1968
Record label: Revolver
Song language: English
Trouble / Guitar Man |
| If you’re looking for trouble |
| You came to the right place |
| If you’re looking for trouble |
| Just look right in my face |
| I was born standing up And talking back |
| My daddy was a green-eyed mountain jack |
| Because I’m evil, my middle name is misery |
| Well I’m evil, so don’t you mess around with me |
| I’ve never looked for trouble |
| But I’ve never ran |
| I don’t take no orders |
| From no kind of man |
| I’m only made out |
| Of flesh, blood and bone |
| But if you’re gonna start a rumble |
| Don’t you try it on alone |
| Because I’m evil, my middle name is misery |
| Well I’m evil, so don’t you mess around with me |
| I’m evil, evil, evil, as can be |
| I’m evil, evil, evil, as can be So don’t mess around don’t mess around don’t mess around with me |
| I’m evil, I’m evil, evil, evil |
| So don’t mess around, don’t mess around with me |
| I’m evil, I tell you I’m evil |
| So don’t mess around with me Yeah! |
| Well, I quit my job down at the car wash, |
| Left my mama a goodbye note, |
| By sundown I’d left Kingston, |
| With my guitar under my coat, |
| I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis, |
| Got a room at the YMCA, |
| For the next three weeks I went huntin' them nights, |
| Just lookin' for a place to play, |
| Well, I thought my pickin' would set 'em on fire, |
| But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man. |
| Well, I nearly 'bout starved to death down in Memphis, |
| I run outta money and luck, |
| So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia, |
| On a overloaded poultry truck, |
| I thumbed on down to Panama City, |
| Started pickin' out some o' them all night bars, |
| Hopin' I could make myself a dollar, |
| Makin' music on my guitar, |
| I got the same old story at them all my peers, |
| There ain’t no room around here for a guitar man |
| So I slept in the hobo jungles, |
| Roamed a thousand miles off track, |
| Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama, |
| At a club they call Big Jack’s, |
| A little four-piece band was jammin', |
| So I took my guitar and I sat in, |
| I showed 'em what a band would sound like, |
| With a swingin' little guitar man. |
| Show 'em, son |
| If you ever take a trip down to the ocean, |
| Find yourself down around Mobile, |
| Make it on out to a club called Jack’s, |
| If you got a little time to kill, |
| Just follow that crowd of people, |
| You’ll wind up out on his dance floor, |
| Diggin' the finest little five-piece group, |
| Up and down the Gulf of Mexico, |
| Guess who’s leadin' that five-piece band, |
| Well, wouldn’t ya know, it’s that swingin' little guitar man |