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Flat Top Gibson Guitar

Höfundur lags: Pat Maher Flytjandi: Lloyd Snow Sent inn af: Anonymous


[G]The first day I saw him I'll never [D7]forget
Downtown on the sidewalk where we first [G]met  
On a small wooden stand by the old timer's [C]bar  
He was singing a [G]song strumming [D7]along
On an old flat top Gibson gui[G]tar  

His tall weary frame showed long years of [D7]neglect
And his pride had been buried beside his [G]respect
Recalling the day pushed his memory too [C]far  
But when all's said and [G]done he was second to [D7]none   
On that old flat top Gibson gui[G]tar  

On warm summer's evening when hours were [D7]mine   
I'd be down there with him from seven till [G]nine
A boy of twelve years dreaming of being a [C]star
So he taught me to [G]play in his own special [D7]way   
On that old flat top Gibson gui[G]tar  

We grew as close as father and [D7]son   
Yet we knew that the time for the parting would [G]come
Then came the night he was not by the [C]bar  
I felt so a[G]lone that I cried going [D7]home   
For him and that old flat top Gibson gui[G]tar  

My mother was standing by our garden [D7]gate   
Pointing to a car leaving dust in its [G]wake
Your friend came by she said in that old [C]car  
And he left on the [G]lawn what you wanted so [D7]long   
An old flat top Gibson gui[G]tar  

The years have gone by and I'm up with the [D7]greats
I traveled all over the United [G]States
And I've searched every crowd but with no luck so [C]far  
Wonder where could he [G]be and does he see [D7]me   
Still playing that old flat top Gibson gui[G]tar  

The first day I saw him I'll never forget
Downtown on the sidewalk where we first met
On a small wooden stand by the old timer's bar
He was singing a song strumming along
On an old flat top Gibson guitar

His tall weary frame showed long years of neglect
And his pride had been buried beside his respect
Recalling the day pushed his memory too far
But when all's said and done he was second to none
On that old flat top Gibson guitar

On warm summer's evening when hours were mine
I'd be down there with him from seven till nine
A boy of twelve years dreaming of being a star
So he taught me to play in his own special way
On that old flat top Gibson guitar

We grew as close as father and son
Yet we knew that the time for the parting would come
Then came the night he was not by the bar
I felt so alone that I cried going home
For him and that old flat top Gibson guitar

My mother was standing by our garden gate
Pointing to a car leaving dust in its wake
Your friend came by she said in that old car
And he left on the lawn what you wanted so long
An old flat top Gibson guitar

The years have gone by and I'm up with the greats
I traveled all over the United States
And I've searched every crowd but with no luck so far
Wonder where could he be and does he see me
Still playing that old flat top Gibson guitar

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