Well, I quit my job down at the car wash, Left my mama a goodbye note, By sundown I'd left Kingston, With my guitar under my coat, I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis, Got a room at the YMCA, For the next three weeks I went huntin' them nights, Just lookin' for a place to play, Well, I thought my pickin' would set 'em on fire, But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man.
Well, I nearly 'bout starved to death down in Memphis, I run outta money and luck, So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia, On a overloaded poultry truck, I thumbed on down to Panama City, Started pickin' out some o' them all night bars, Hopin' I could make myself a dollar, Makin' music on my guitar, I got the same old story at them all night piers, There ain't no room around here for a guitar man We don't need a guitar man, son
So I slept in the hobo jungles, Roamed a thousand miles of track, Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama, At a club they call Big Jack's, A little four-piece band was jammin', So I took my guitar and I sat in, I showed 'em what a band would sound like, With a swingin' little guitar man. Show 'em, son
If you ever take a trip down to the ocean, Find yourself down around Mobile, Make it on out to a club called Jack's, If you got a little time to kill, Just follow that crowd of people, You'll wind up out on his dance floor, Diggin' the finest little five-piece group, Up and down the Gulf of Mexico, Guess who's leadin' that five-piece band, Well, wouldn't ya know, it's that swingin' little guitar man.
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