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