Curtis Lowe

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Well I used to wake the mornin' before the rooster crowed
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Searchin for soda bottles to get myself some dough
E                             B
Brung em down to the corner, down to the country store
A                                                   E
Cash em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Lowe
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Ol' Curt was a black man with white curly hair
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When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care
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He used to own an old dobro used to play it 'cross his knee
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I'd give Ol' Curt my money, he'd play all day for me
Chorus
A                       E
Play me a song, Curtis Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe
A                           E
I got your drinkin' money, tune up your dobro
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People said you was useless but them people all were fools
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Cause Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues
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He looked to be 60, maybe I was 10
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Mama used to whoop me but I'd go see him again
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I'd clap my hands, stomp my feets tryin' to stay in time
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He'd play me song or two then take another drink of wine
Chorus
E               B             A           E
On the day Ol' Curtis died nobody came to pray
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Old preacher said some words and they chucked him in the clay
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He lived a lifetime playin' the black man's blues
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And on the day he lost his life that's all he had to lose
A                      E
Play me a song Curtis Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe
A                            E
I wish that you was here so everyone would know
A                                     E               D
People said you was useless but them people all were fools
       E                  B                A             E
Cause Curtis, you're the finest picker to ever play the blues

E  B  A  E

Cifra adaptada de fontes públicas. Direitos da composição pertencem aos autores e gravadoras originais. Esta página é parte do projeto educacional Mania de Músico.