| E | B | |
| Well, I | used to wake the mornin' | before the rooster crowed, |
| E | A | F# | |
| Searchin' for soda bottles to | get myself some | dough. |
| E | B | |
| Run 'em down to the corner, | down to the country store, |
| A | E | |
| Cash 'em in, and give my money to a man named Curtis | Loew. |
| Verse: |
| E | B | A | G | E | |
| Old Curt was a | black man with | white cu | -rly | hair, |
| E | B | D | A | G | E | |
| When he had a fifth of | wine he | did not have a | care, |
| E | B | A | G | E | |
| He used to own an old | Do-bro, used to | play it ' | cross his k | nees |
| E | B | D | E | A | |
| I give old Curt my | money, he | play all day for | me. |
| Chorus: |
| A | E | A | |
| Play me a song, Curtis | Loew, Curtis Loew, |
| A | E | A | |
| Well, I got your drinkin' money, | tune up your Dobro. |
| A | E | F# | |
| People said he was useless, them | people all were | fools, |
| E | D | A | E | E | D | A | G | E | |
| 'Cause C | urtis Loew was the | finest picker to | ever play the | blues |
| verse |
| E | B | A | G | E | |
| He looked to be | sixty, | and maybe | I was | ten, |
| B | D | A | G | |
| Mama used to | whoop me, but I'd | go see him | again | . |
| E | B | A | G | E | |
| I clap my hands, | stomp my feets, | try to | stay in | time, |
| E | B | D | E | |
| He'd play a | song or two, then | take another drink of | wine. |
| Chorus: |
| A | E | A | |
| Play me a song, Curtis | Loew, Curtis Loew, |
| A | E | A | |
| Well, I got your drinkin' money, | tune up your Dobro. |
| A | E | F# | |
| People said he was useless, them | people all were | fools, |
| E | D | A | E | E | D | A | G | E | |
| 'Cause C | urtis Loew was the | finest picker to | ever play the | blues |
| verse |
| E | B | A | G | E | |
| On the day ole | Cur-tis died no_ | bod-y | came to | pray,__ old preacher |
| B | D | A | G | |
| said some words and | they chunked him in the | clay. |
| E | B | A | G | E | |
| well he lived a | life-time | play-in the | black mans_ | blues |
| E | B | D | E | |
| and on the | day he lost his life thats | all he had to | lose |
| Chorus: |
| A | E | A | |
| Play me a song, Curtis | Loew, Curtis Loew, |
| A | E | |
| I wish that you was here __ so | ev-ry one would know |
| A | E | F# | |
| People said he was useless, them | people all were | fools, |
| E | D | A | E | E | D | A | G | E | |
| 'Cause C | urtis Loew you're the | finest picker to | ever play the | blues |