| I remember when I met Carl Martin
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| It must have been a dozen years ago
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| This wise old gent was grey and bent
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| But his eyes had a fiery glow
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| He was born April Fool’s Day of 1906
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| Near Big Stone Gap, VA
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| He could play a little fiddle
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| And some blues guitar that he’d picked up along the way
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| But, Jethro, once he put his hands on the mandolin
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| He lit up just like a Christmas tree
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| Along with Ted Bogan and Howard Armstrong
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| They were the best string band I ever did see
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| Now for fifty odd years they played rent parties
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| Road houses, concerts and festivals too
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| At the drop of a hat these three black cats
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| Would play you every song they knew
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| It was «Lady Be Good» and «The Barnyard Dance»
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| And «The Ice Cream Freezer Blues»
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| Now, they’d trot the oldest chestnuts out
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| And make every one sound brand new
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| And the little white boys with their shiny guitars
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| Would follow right along at their heels
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| They learned all the words and they learned all the chords
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| But they never did learn how it feels
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| Now one night I asked Carl where he got the fire
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| And he said, 'Steve, you’ve got to understand
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| If you want to be someone, you better have some fun
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| And you better get it while you can.'
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| He said:
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| You better get it while you can
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| You better get it while you can
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| If you wait too long, it’ll all be gone
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| And you’ll be sorry then
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| It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor
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| And it’s the same for a woman or a man
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| From the cradle to the crypt
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| Is a mighty short trip
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| So you better get it while you can
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| Carl always had a way to make the good times roll
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| When the rest of us weren’t so sure
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| He’d just pick out the prettiest woman in the room
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| And then he’d sing every song to her
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| Now, one night back East when the gig was done
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| There was an all night blow-out jam
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| We played and we sang and we drank for hours
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| Until the sun came up again
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| It was blues and ballads, Ragtime, Dixieland, Swing
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| Some old time show tunes
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| And then Carl Martin sang some songs nobody else knew
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| And some I haven’t heard since then
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| But right before dawn he did two more songs
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| Just to separate the strong from the faint
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| It was a red-hot rendition of «The Old Pine Tree»
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| And a double-time version of 'The Saints'
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| (With the mandolin behind his head)
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| And when he was done those of us who could still breathe
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| Took off our hats to that man
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| Carl had played everybody under the table that night
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| And he said, 'You better get it while you can'
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| It was:
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| You better get it while you can
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| You better get it while you can
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| If you wait too long, it’ll all be gone
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| And you’ll be sorry then
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| It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor
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| And it’s the same for a woman or a man
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| From the cradle to the crypt
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| Is a mighty short trip
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| So you better get it while you can
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| You know Carl and his buddies never got too far
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| When he died Martin didn’t have a dime
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| He was a little behind in his payments
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| And a little bit ahead of his time
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| Last week some so-called musicians
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| Stayed up real late and burned one down
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| The liquor kept coming, so we kept strumming
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| Til a minute or two before dawn
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| There were those who stayed and those who faded
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| But soon I was left all alone
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| Now I don’t believe in ghosts — but I could swear
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| I heard Carl Martin singing one more song
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| You better get it while you can
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| You better get it while you can
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| If you wait too long, it’ll all be gone
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| And you’ll be sorry then
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| It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor
|
| And it’s the same for a woman or a man
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| From the cradle to the crypt
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| Is a mighty short trip
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| So you better get it while you can
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| You better get it while you can |