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I was thumbin' back from Montgomery |
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with a guitar on my back |
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When a stranger pulled up beside me in an antique Cadillac. |
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Well, he was dressed like 1950, half drunk and hallow eyed |
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Its a long walk to Nashville, would you like a ride, son. |
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He sat down in the front seat, and turned on the radio |
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and them sad old songs comin' outta them speakers was solid country gold. |
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Then I noticed the stranger was ghost white pale when he asked me for a light. |
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And knew there was somethin' strange about this ride. |
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CHORUS: |
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He said: Mister can you make folks cry when you play and sang. |
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Can you pay your dues, can you moan the blues |
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Can you bend them guitar strangs. |
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He said: Boy, can you make folks feel what you feel inside, |
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Cause if your big star bound let me warn you its a long hard ride. |
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Well, he cried just south of Nashville, and he turned that car around. |
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he said: (spoken) this is where you get off, boy |
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cause I'm going back to Alabam'. |
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I stepped out of that ole Cadillac and I said Mister, many thanks. |
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he said you don't have to call me mister, Mister. |
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The whole world calls me Hank. |
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Repeat Chorus |
