| Lyrics: | In a little cabaret in a South Texas border town,
Sat a boy and his guitar, and the people came
from all around.
And all the girls from there to Austin,
Were slippin' away from home and
puttin' jewelery in hock.
To take the trip, to go and listen,
To the little dark-haired boy
who played the Tennessee flat top box.
And he would play: [Instrumental]
Well, he
couldn't ride or wrangle, and he never cared to make a dime.
But give him his guitar, and he'd
be happy all the time.
And all the girls from nine to ninety,
Were snapping fingers, tapping
toes, and begging him: "Don't stop."
And hypnotized and fascinated,
By the little
dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box.
And he would play:
[Instrumental]
Then one day he was gone, and no one ever saw him 'round,
He'd vanished
like the breeze, they forgot him in the little town.
But all the girls still dreamed about
him.
And hung around the cabaret until the doors were locked.
And then one day on the Hit
Parade,
Was a little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box.
And he
would play: [Instrumental] |
