Well I used to wake the mornin’ … before the rooster crowed
Searchin’ for soda bottles to get myself some dough
Brought ’em down to the corner … down to the country store
Cash ’em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Leow
Old Curt was a black man with white curly hair
When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care
He used to own an old Dobro … used to play it across his knees
I’d give old Curt my money … he’d play all day for me
Play me a song Curtis Leow … Curtis Leow
Well I got your drinking money … tune up your Dobro
People said he was useless … them people all were fools
‘Cause Curtis Leow was the finest picker to ever play the blues
He looked to be sixty … and maybe I was ten
Mama used to whup me but I’d go see him again
I’d clap my hands, stomp my feets, try to stay in time
He’d play me a song or two then take another drink of wine
Play me a song Curtis Leow … Curtis Leow
Well I got your drinking money … tune up your Dobro
People said he was useless … them people all were fools
‘Cause Curtis Leow was the finest picker to ever play the blues
Yesssir
On the day old Curtis died nobody came to pray
Ol’ preacher said some words and they chunked him in the clay
Well he lived a lifetime playin’ the black man’s blues
And on the day he lost his life that’s all he had to lose
Play me a song Curtis Leow … hey Curtis Leow
I wish that you was here so everyone would know
People said you were useless … them people all are fools
‘Cause Curtis you’re the finest picker to ever play the blues
One of my favorites, back when songs told a story.
Ronnie sure could write ’em.