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'd vanished like the breeze, they forgot him in the little town. But al (guitaretab.com)