| Well I quit my job down at the carwash I 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 a hountin' them night clubs
|
| 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 out of money and luck
|
| So I bummed me a ride down to Macon Georgia on a overloaded poultry truck
|
| I thumbed on down to Panama City started checkin' out some of them all night
|
| bars
|
| Hopin' I can make myself a dollar makin' music on my guitar
|
| Got the same old story at them all night piers
|
| There ain’t no room around here for a guitar man we don’t need a guitar man son
|
| So I slept in the hobo jungles I bummed a thousand miles of track
|
| Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama in 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
|
| So if you ever take a trip down to the ocean find yourself down round Mobile
|
| Well make it on out to the 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
|
| And guess who’s leadin' that five piece band
|
| Why wouldn’t you know it’s that swingin' little guitar man yeah |