John's

Most of the favorite memories of my boyhood days in Arkansas

Are scattered around an old wood stove at a place we call John's

It was just an old tar paper 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 living and he fixed tires on the side

And I guess old 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 old 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 picking on an old 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 because he loved it

We'd sit up and listen to the Grand Ole Opry every Saturday night

Nobody would ever say a word, not even during Martha White

And I was awfully 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 something else special about ole John

He had a way of making us kids feel important

Simply by giving us a good clean place to hang out

Well I can still hear him saying, "Pumping 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 old lady Hanson's oil or to help a stranded friend

And among the carburetors and the re-built generators

I spent the whole night picking on an old 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

And among the carburetors and the re-built generators

I spent the whole night picking on an old 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