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