Letras de The Ballad of Curtis Lowe

Well I used to work the morning before the rooster crowed
Searching for soda bottles to get myself some dough
Running down to the corner, down to the country store
Cashier man would give my money to a man named Curtis Lowe

Old Curtis was a black man with white curly hair
When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care
Used to roll an old turbo, used to pray at crossing′s near
I'd give old Curtis my money, he′d play a little tune for me

Play me a song, Curtis, oh Curtis, oh
I've got your drinking money, shoot up your dough
People said he was useless but them people are all the fools
'Cause Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues

I need luck to be a success, maybe I′m a sin
Mama used to work me but I ain′t gonna see her again
I clap my hands, stomp my feet, try to stay in time
Keep playing a song or two then take another drink of wine

Play me a song, Curtis, oh Curtis, oh
I've got your drinking money, shoot up your dough
People said he was useless but them people are all the fools
′Cause Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues