(Chip Taylor)



I was on a bus comin' back to us

From Atlanta in '53

And I picked up a Rhythm & Blues magazine

Layin' underneath my seat

And I found out the stuff they'd been playin' us

Wasn't made from grits and bone

And it would take more than the Crew Cuts

And Pat Boone to take me home



I want the real thing

Give me the real thing

Make it loud I'll make you proud

Or the songs they'd sing

I don't want you under my roof with your 86 proof

Watered down ''til it tastes like tea

You're gonna pull my string

Make it the real thing



I remember old Elvis when he forgot

To remember to forget

And when young Johnny Cash hadn't seen this side of

Big River yet

And old Luther and Lewis and Perkins was pickin

And playin' them songs for me



I want the real thing

Give me the real thing

Make it loud I'll make you proud

Or the songs they'd sing

I don't want you under my roof with your 86 proof

Watered down 'til it tastes like tea

You're gonna pull my string

Make it the real thing