Well, I used
to wake up in the
Before the rooster crows
Searching for soda bottles
To get myself some dough
I run down to the corner
Down to the country store
A cashier man give my money
to a man named
Curtis
Lowe, old man was
a black man with
white curly hair, when he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care,
he used to play an
Old
Dobro, he used to play it
across his knees
I'd give old
Kurt my money and he'd
play all day for me
Play me a song,
Kurt is so,
Kurt is so
I got your drink and money
to tune up your
Dobro
People say he was useless,
but them people are fools
Because
Curtis
Lowe was the finest picker to ever
play the blues
He lived to be sixty,
an d maybe I was ten
Mama used to whip me,
but I'd go see him again
I'd clap my hands and stomp my feet,
trying to stay in time
He'd play a song or two,
and then he'd take another drink of wine
Play me a song,
Curtis, oh,
Curtis, oh
I got your drinkin' money,
tune up your
Joe
Bro
People said he was useless,
but them people are the fools
Curtis
Lowe was the finest picker to ever play
the blues
Oh
On the day old
Curtis died, nobody came to pray
Old preachers said some words and
they chucked him in the clay
He lived a lifetime playing
the black man's blues
On the day he lost his life,
it was all he had to lose
Play me a song,
Curtis, oh,
Curtis, oh
I'm singing this here song so
everyone will know
People say it was useless,
but them people are the fools
Because
Curtis, you're the finest picker
to ever play the blues