Well, I quit my job down at the car wash
I 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
And 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
I 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
Wouldn't ya know
It's that swingin' little guitar man
Yeah, yeah

Writer : JERRY REED
Copyright : Lyrics © HORI PRO ENTERTAINMENT GROUP N M P A ONLY