| I remember
|
| When I was only seventeen
|
| The bohemian poet
|
| And dosciple of the streets
|
| Or was I just a little kid
|
| Searching for identity in '63
|
| Heard it on the radio
|
| On a cold December night
|
| It came burning down the air waves
|
| Like a savior’s shinin' light
|
| All the way from the U.S.A.
|
| Across the Atlantic far away
|
| The magic came
|
| The house began to rock
|
| With Cupid and his bow
|
| The hootchy kootchy man’s
|
| Lonely harp began to blow
|
| Little did I know that
|
| nothing in my life
|
| Would ever be the same
|
| Stayed up all night
|
| Playin' every 45
|
| Tryin' to sound like you
|
| Strummed my guitar in bed
|
| Till my fingers bled
|
| Tryin' to play like you
|
| Thank you Muddy
|
| For the sounds you made
|
| Thank you, Sam, thank you, Otis
|
| Thank you, Muddy
|
| For the times we shared
|
| And they carry on I saw Otis back in 1965
|
| Tears in my eyes
|
| As he sung «These Arms Of mine»
|
| But angels needed a soul man
|
| For the celestial blues band
|
| They took him home (took you home)
|
| Oh, what I’d give to see
|
| That red mohair suit and hear
|
| «Dock Of The Bay»
|
| Or Sam in his two tone
|
| Singin' «Bring It On Back Home»
|
| What a show that would be
|
| (*Repeat)
|
| If I sound sentimental
|
| It’s because this blue-eyed soul boys
|
| Got so much respect
|
| My gratitude to you
|
| Runs deep, proud and true
|
| I will never forget
|
| Thank you Muddy
|
| For the sounds you made
|
| Thank you, Sam, thank you, Otis
|
| Thank you, Muddy
|
| For the times you gave
|
| (**Repeat)
|
| Thank you, Sam, thank you, Sam
|
| Thank you, Otis, thank you, Muddy
|
| You’ll never, never fade away … |