Fell in love at sixteen with a folk-singing lady Who sang so sweetly "My Johnny is a shoemaker" She taught me C and G and the songs of Woody Guthrie I was prouder than punch, hoping that her young man would forsake her
'Twas in a dingy little folk club, down the high street First had a taste of that bitter sweet refrain, on my brain Pick a bale of cotton in the key of G A folksinger's life is the life for me
Now, old man Johnny was a basket weaver With a bottle in his hand, a bundle of canes on his back Now, when he was blind drunk, all he could weave Was a tiny babie's rattle, with beer-bottle tops from his sack
'Twas in a dingy little folk club, down the high street First had a taste of that bitter sweet refrain, on my brain Pick a bale of cotton in the key of G A folksinger's life is the life for me
I remember the night a nymphomaniac lady With lust in her eyes, she grabbed me and pushed me through the door Now, she played with poor willy and I sure felt silly Playing my guitar, I was flat on my back on the floor
'Twas in a dingy little folk club, down the high street First had a taste of that bitter sweet refrain, on my brain Pick a bale of cotton in the key of G A folksinger's life is the life for meTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
