Most of the favorite mem'ries of my boyhood days in Arkansas Are scattered around an ole wood stove at a place we call John's
It was just an ole tarpaper shack With a pump out front and some junk out back But inside there was always a hot cup of coffee And a warm place around the fire for anyone John pumped gas for a livin' and he fixed tires on the side And I guess ole John could fix most anything If you didn't push it he'd try And he gave me my first charge account for some gas And financed my first date Even fixed my ole radio just in case I got lucky And wanted to park down by the lake
And among the carburetors and the re-built generators I spent the whole night pickin' on an ol' flattop guitar John would play the fiddle and I'd always sing a little No there ain't no place to get filled up the way you could at John's
John taught me a whole lot about country music cause he loved it We'd sit up and listen to the Grand Ole Opry ever Saturday night Nobody would ever say a word not even durin' Martha White And I was awful young back then but still I knew just why That John closed the shop the whole day When we heard that Hank had died
There was somethin' else special about ole John He had a way of makin' us kids feel important simply by givin' us a good clean place to hang out Well I can still hear him sayin' pumpin' gas is a fever boys It'll get in your blood and it'll make your face break out in a grin Just to check ole lady Hanson's oil or to help a stranded friend
And among the carburetors and the re-built generators... And among the carburetors and the re-built generators...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
