Well i used to wake the morning

before the rooster crowed

searchin for soda bottles, to get myself some dough

run em down to the corner

down to the country store

cash em in and give my money to a man named curtis lowe

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 'coss his knee

I'd give old curt my money and he'd play all day for me



Chorus:

Play me a song Curtis Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe

I got your drinkin money,

tune up your dobro,

people said he was useless, them people all were fools,

'cause Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues



He looked to be sixty, and maybe i was 10

Mama used to whoop me, but i'd go see him again

I'd clap my hands and stomp my feet just tryin to stay in time

he'd play me a song or two then take another drink a wine



Chorus



On the day old Curtis died nobody came to pray

old 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 Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe

I wish that you was here so everyone would know

people said he was useless, them people all were fools

'cause Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues