Well, I used to wake the mornin` before the rooster crowed,
Searchin` for soda bottles to get myself some dough.
Run `em down to the corner, down to the country store,
Cash `em in, and give my money to a man named Curtis Loew.
Old 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 give old Curt my money, he play all day for me.
Play 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 blues
He looked to be sixty, and maybe I was ten,
Mama used to whup me, but I`d go see him again.
I clap my hands, stomp my feets, try to stay in time,
He`d play a song or two, then take another drink of wine.
Play 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 blues
On the day old Curtis died, nobody came and prayed.
Ol` preacher said some words, and they chunked him in the grave.
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 lose.
Play me a song, Curtis Loew, hey, Curtis Loew,
I wish that you was here so ev`ryone would know
People said he was useless, them people all were fools,
`Cause, Curtis, you`re the finest picker to ever play the blues.