Way down in ol' Kentucky
There's a fella mighty lucky
By the way he makes a guitar moan
Hangin' round, singin' round a country store
Pickin' like a chicken, pickin' up corn
And every gal in the county, gathers all around him
â€~Cuz he's got rhythm in his bones
Their feet start jumpin', do the shuffle and drag
Every time they hear the rhythm of the guitar rag
He gets a moanin' tone, he makes it grumble and groan
When he gets to pickin' and a-pluckin' the strings
He can make a deacon do the buck-and-wing
All the fat and skinny does a little shimmy
And their heads start to wiggle and wag
Their feet start jumpin', do the shuffle and drag
Every time they hear the rhythm of the guitar rag