Well I used to wake the mornin' before the rooster crowed
Searchin for soda bottles to get myself some dough
Brung em down to the corner, down to the country store
Cash em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Lowe
Ol' 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 Ol' Curt my money, he'd play all day for me
Chorus
Play me a song, Curtis Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe
I got your drinkin' money, tune up your dobro
People said you was useless but them people all were fools
Cause Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues
He looked to be 60, maybe I was 10
Mama used to whoop me but I'd go see him again
I'd clap my hands, stomp my feets tryin' to stay in time
He'd play me song or two then take another drink of wine
Chorus
On the day Ol' Curtis died nobody came to pray
Old preacher said some words and they chucked him in the clay
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 Lowe, hey Curtis Lowe
I wish that you was here so everyone would know
People said you was useless but them people all were fools
Cause Curtis, you're the finest picker to ever play the blues