| Lyrics: | 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
man
We don't need a guitar man, son
So 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,
son
If 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 |
