Lyrics:

1982
Writer(s): Guy Clark

Why hello there little lady, I'm just a lonesome guitar picker
You'd never know from the way I look I'm an educated man
I got the music in my blood little lady, makes me ramble 'cross the land
Troubles on my mind, this old guitar in my hand

I left my home and family, I wasn't much more than a child
I don't count the towns no more, sure don't count the miles
I guess I'll never have a home, 'least ways not your kind
I just stopped here in this bar to try to bring some peace of mind

Well I usually play for my drinks and tips, 'cept when I play for free
This old guitar and a bag of songs, that's 'bout all there is to me
Little lady if you don't mind, I think I'll make a song for you
I'll sing it down the road somewhere, that's the most that I can do

Lord the music just won't turn me loose, it's a curse to be this kind
Little lady you'll never know, the comfort that I find
In just talkin' to someone like you in this bar along the way
You sure ain't the usual kind that I find to brighten up my day

And tonight when I lay down along some road to try to sleep
Just a memory in your treasure chest is all that you may keep
No wait now, I got more than that to give, it's this locket made of gold
My mother gave it to me ma'am, now it's yours to hold

Na, don't try to thank me, do I need a place to stay
Well thank you little lady, why don't we pick up a bottle along the way