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Well I was thumbin' from Montgomery |
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Had my guitar on my back. |
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When a stranger stopped beside |
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Me in an antique cadillac. |
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He was dressed like nineteen fifty, |
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Half drunk and hollow eyed. |
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He said it's a long walk to Nashville, son would you like a ride? |
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I sat down in the front seat, he turned on the radio. |
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And them sad old songs coming out of them speakers, |
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Was solid country gold. |
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Then I noticed the stranger was ghost white pale, |
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When he asked me for a light. |
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And I knew there was something strange about this ride. |
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He said "Drifter can you make folks cry when you play and sing, |
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Have you paid your dues, can you moan the blues, |
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Can you bend them guitar strings? |
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He said "Boy can you make folks feel what you feel inside, |
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'cause if you'rr big star bound let me warn ya it's a long hard ride." |
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Then he cried just south of Nashville, |
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And he turned that car around. |
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He said "This is where you get off boy, |
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Because I'm going back to Alabam. |
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As I stepped out of that cadillac, |
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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 called me hank. |
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He said "Drifter can you make folks cry when you play and sing, |
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Have you paid your dues, can you moan the blues, |
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Can you bend them guitar strings? |
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He said "Boy can you make folks feel what you feel inside, |
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'cause if you'rr big star bound let me warn ya it's a long hard ride." |
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If you're big star bound let me warn ya, |
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It's a long hard ride. |
