E Bm Well I used to wake the mornin' before the rooster crowed E A D Searchin for soda bottles to get myself some dough E Bm Brung em down to the corner, down to the country store A E Cash em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Lowe E Bm A E Ol' Curt was a black man with white curly hair E Bm A E When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care E Bm A E He used to own an old dobro used to play it 'cross his knee E Bm A E I'd give Ol' Curt my money, he'd play all day for me Chorus A E Play me a song, Curtis Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe A E I got your drinkin' money, tune up your dobro A E D People said you was useless but them people all were fools E Bm A E Cause Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues E Bm A E He looked to be 60, maybe I was 10 E Bm A E Mama used to whoop me but I'd go see him again E Bm A E I'd clap my hands, stomp my feets tryin' to stay in time E Bm A E He'd play me song or two then take another drink of wine Chorus E Bm A E On the day Ol' Curtis died nobody came to pray E Bm A E Old preacher said some words and they chucked him in the clay E Bm A E He lived a lifetime playin' the black man's blues E Bm A E And on the day he lost his life that's all he had to lose A E Play me a song Curtis Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe A E I wish that you was here so everyone would know A E D People said you was useless but them people all were fools E Bm A E Cause Curtis, you're the finest picker to ever play the blues E Bm A E
