acitore_vuli
Scuttle Buttin'
- Joined
- Sep 22, 2002
- Posts
- 4,485
Gentleman George
With hands the size of shovels
And a heart of gold
He spoke to those that listened
With his fiddle and his bow
He played the roadside taverns
For very little pay
Despite the fact that people
Packed the places he would play
Come on honey let the party begin
George is playin’ at the Euclid Inn
We’re gonna’ dance until there’s no one there
‘Cept old George playin’ Maidens Prayer
He drove off in his Chevy
After every single show
Rear end hangin' heavy
Through the brutal winter snow
Heading to the place that
Only he could call a home
A trailer on the roadside
With no heat or telephone
Come on baby join me out on the floor
Old George is kicking’ up Turkey in the Straw
We’re gonna’ dance until we see for sure
Gentleman George walkin’ out that door
He’s sitting in his armchair
Warm from whiskey cold alone
Missing everything he’s lost
And things he’ll never know
He opens up the case and
Takes his fiddle and his bow
And looks at them as tired old men
Says “Friends, we’re going home”.
Digs deeper in the case until
He finds the 44
Then lays the bow across the strings
Like waves upon the shore
The shot rang out for miles
The sound rang out for years
A fiddle in our memory
A bullet in our tears
Come on baby let me hold you tight
There is a loss in the world tonight
Tell me now where do I go
With no more fiddle and no more bow?
With hands the size of shovels
And a heart of gold
He spoke to those that listened
With his fiddle and his bow
He played the roadside taverns
For very little pay
Despite the fact that people
Packed the places he would play
Come on honey let the party begin
George is playin’ at the Euclid Inn
We’re gonna’ dance until there’s no one there
‘Cept old George playin’ Maidens Prayer
He drove off in his Chevy
After every single show
Rear end hangin' heavy
Through the brutal winter snow
Heading to the place that
Only he could call a home
A trailer on the roadside
With no heat or telephone
Come on baby join me out on the floor
Old George is kicking’ up Turkey in the Straw
We’re gonna’ dance until we see for sure
Gentleman George walkin’ out that door
He’s sitting in his armchair
Warm from whiskey cold alone
Missing everything he’s lost
And things he’ll never know
He opens up the case and
Takes his fiddle and his bow
And looks at them as tired old men
Says “Friends, we’re going home”.
Digs deeper in the case until
He finds the 44
Then lays the bow across the strings
Like waves upon the shore
The shot rang out for miles
The sound rang out for years
A fiddle in our memory
A bullet in our tears
Come on baby let me hold you tight
There is a loss in the world tonight
Tell me now where do I go
With no more fiddle and no more bow?
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