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The Ballad of Curtis Lowe

Well, I used to wake the mornin'

Before the rooster crowed

Searchin' for soda bottles

To get myself some dough

Brought 'em down to the corner

Down to the country store

Cash 'em in, and give my money

To a man named Curtis LoewOld Curt was a black man

With white curly hair

When he had a fifth of wine

He did not have a care

He used to own an old Dobro

Used to play it 'cross his knee

I'd give old Curt my money

He'd play all day for mePlay me a song

Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew

Well, I got your drinkin' money

Tune up your Dobro

People said he was useless

Them people all were fools

'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker

To ever play the bluesHe looked to be sixty

And maybe I was ten

Mama used to whoop me

But I'd go see him again

I'd clap my hands, stomp my feet

Try to stay in time

He'd play me a song or two

Then take another drink of winePlay me a song

Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew

Well, I got your drinkin' money

Tune up your Dobro

People said he was useless

Them people all were fools

'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker

To ever play the bluesYes, sirOn the day old Curtis died

Nobody came to pray

Ol' preacher said some words

And they chunked him in the clay

Well, he lived a lifetime

Playin' the black man's blues

And on the day he lost his life

That's all he had to losePlay me a song

Curtis Loew, hey Curtis Loew

I wish that you was here so

Everyone would know

People said he was useless

Them people all were fools

'Cause Curtis you're the finest picker

To ever play the blues

Songwriters

ALLEN COLLINS, RONNIE VAN ZANTPublished by

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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