Tennessee Flat-Top Box

In a little cabaret in a South Texas border town

Sat a boy and his guitar, and the people came from all around

And all the girls from there to Austin

Were slippin' away from home and puttin' jewelery in hock

To take the trip, to go and listen

To the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flat top box

And he would play

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 90

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 and they forgot him in the little town

But all the girls still dreamed about him

And hung around the cabaret until the doors were locked

And then one day on the Hit Parade

Was a little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flat top box

And he would play