| Well I used to wake the mornin', 'fore the rooster crowed
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| Searchin' for soda bottles to get myself some dough
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| Take 'em down to the corner, down to that country store
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| Cash 'em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Loew
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| Old curt was a black man with white curly hair
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| When he had a little of wine, no he did not have a care
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| He used to own and old Dobro, he’d play it 'cross his knee
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| I’d give old Curt my money, he’d play all day for me
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| Play me a song Curtis Loew Curtis Loew
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| I got your drinkin' money, tune up your Dobro
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| People said he was useless, them people all were fools
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| 'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues
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| Well he looked to be 60, maybe I was 10
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| Yeah my mama used to whoop me but I’d go see him again
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| Clap my hands, stomp my feet, and I’d try to keep in time
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| He’d play me a song or two and then take another drink of the muscadine wine
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| Play me a song Curtis Loew Curtis Loew
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| I got your drinkin' money, tune up your Dobro
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| People said he was useless, but them people all were fools
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| 'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues
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| On the day old Curtis died nobody came to pray
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| Old preacher just said some words, and they chucked him in that clay
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| Well he lived a lifetime of playin' that black man’s blues
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| And on the day he lost his life, well that’s all he had to lose
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| Play me a song Curtis Loew Curtis Loew
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| Well I got your drinkin' money, tune up your Dobro
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| People said he was useless, but them people all were fools
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| 'Cause Curtis Loew you’re the finest picker to ever play the blues |