Tennessee Flat-Top Box

In a little cabaret

In a South Texas border town sat a boy and his guitar

And the people came from all around and all the girls

From there to Austin

Were slipping 'way from home and putting jewelry in hock

To take the trip to go and listen

To the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flat-top box

And he would play

Well he couldn't ride or wrangle

And he never cared to make a dime, but give him his guitar

And he'd be happy all the time and all the girls

From nine to ninety

Were snapping fingers, tapping toes and begging him, "Don't stop"

And hypnotized and fascinated

By the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flat-top box

And he would play

Then one day, he was gone

And no one ever saw him 'round, he vanished like the breeze

And they forgot him in the little town, but all the girls

Still dreamed about him

And hung around the cabaret until the doors were locked

And then one day on the hit parade

Was a little dark-haired boy that played a Tennessee flat-top box

And he would play