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Daddy Frank played the guitar and the french harp, |
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Sister played the ringing tambourine. |
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Mama couldn't hear our pretty music, |
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She read our lips and helped the family sing. |
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That little band was all a part of living, |
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And our only means of living at the time; |
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And it wasn't like no normal family combo, |
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Cause Daddy Frank the guitar man was blind. |
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Frank and mama counted on each other; |
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Their one and only weakness made them strong. |
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Mama did the driving for the family, |
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And Frank made a living with a song. |
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Home was just a camp along the highway; |
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A pick-up bed was where we bedded down. |
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Don't ever once remember going hungry, |
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But I remember mama cooking on the ground. |
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Don't remember how they got acquainted; |
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I can't recall just how it came to be. |
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There had to be some special help from someone, |
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And blessed be the one that let it be. |
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Fever caused my mama's loss of hearing. |
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Daddy Frank was born without his sight. |
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And mama needed someone she could lean on, |
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And I believe the guitar man was right. |
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Daddy Frank played the guitar and the french harp, |
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Sister played the ringing tambourine. |
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Mama couldn't hear our pretty music, |
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She read our lips and helped the family sing. |
