| Daddy Frank played the guitar and the French harp
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| Sister played the ringing tambourine
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| Mama couldn’t hear our pretty music
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| She read our lips and helped the family sing
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| That little band was all a part of living
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| And our only means of living at the time
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| And it wasn’t like no normal family combo
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| 'Cause daddy Frank the guitar man was blind
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| Frank and mama counted on each other
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| Their one and only weakness made them strong
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| Mama did the driving for the family
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| And Frank made a living with a song
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| Home was just a camp along the highway
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| A pick-up bed was where we bedded down
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| Don’t ever once remember going hungry
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| But I remember mama cooking on the ground
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| Don’t remember how they got acquainted
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| I can’t recall just how it came to be There had to be some special help from someone
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| And blessed be the one that let it be Fever caused my mama’s loss of hearing
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| Daddy Frank was born without his sight
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| And mama needed someone she could lean on And I believe the guitar man was right
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| Daddy Frank played the guitar and the French harp
|
| Sister played the ringing tambourine
|
| Mama couldn’t hear our pretty music
|
| She read our lips and helped the family sing |