OLD TROUBADOR

Sat sipping a cold one in a bar after work
when a bum stumbled in wearing a stained cowboy shirt
With sequins and fringe that hung tarnished and worn
And a ten gallon hat all caved in and torn
I turned away quickly so our eyes wouldn’t meet
Silently praying he would not sit by me
But he headed straight toward me, sank down on the stool
And started talking like old codgers will do

Chorus:
About his days on the circuit with Johnny and Elvis
The shows that they played from Mobile to Memphis
He brought tears to their eyes, he kept them out on the floor
Is there any place left for an old troubador?

He played all the juke joints, hand to mouth, through the years
Till the bookings dried up and old friends disappeared
Then he took his old Gibson to the pawnshop next door
And a handful of dollars was all he had to show
He finished his story and offered a toast
The whole room fell quiet, his ragged voice rose
He sang about living and what it can cost
Riding high on the glory, falling hard when it’s lost

Chorus:

c 1996, Barbara Martin
540-886-2966