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Well, I quit my job down at the car wash,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 huntin' them nights,Just 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 outta money and luck,So I bought me
a ride down to Macon, Georgia,On a overloaded poultry
truck,I thumbed on down to Panama City,Started
pickin' out some o' them all night bars,Hopin' I could make myself a dollar,Makin'
music on my guitar,I got the same old story at them all
night piers,There ain't no room around here for a
guitar manWe don't need a guitar man, sonSo I slept in the hobo jungles,Roamed a thousand miles
of track,Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama,At 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, sonIf you ever take a trip down to the ocean,Find
yourself down around Mobile,Make it on out to a 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,Guess who's leadin' that five-piece band,Well,
wouldn't ya know, it's that swingin' little
guitar man.
[ Last edited by 美国甜心 on 2006-6-28 at 23:19 ] |
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