Tennessee Flat Top Box

[G]  [C]
In[C] a little cabaret in a South Texas bor[G]der town,

Sat a boy and his guitar, and the people came from all around.
And all the gi[C]rls from there to Au[G]stin,
Were slippin' away from home and puttin' jewelery in h[C]ock.
To take the trip, to go and li[G]sten,
To the little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat t[C]op box.
And he would p[F]lay: [Instrumental]

W[C]ell, he couldn't ride or wrangle, and he never cared to make a[G] dime.

But give him his guitar, and he'd be happy all the time.
And all the g[C]irls from nine to[G] ninety,
Were snapping fingers, tapping toes, and begging him: "Don't[C] stop."
And hypnotized and fasci[G]nated,
By the little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat t[C]op box.
And he would p[F]lay: [Instrumental]

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 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 who played the Tennessee flat top box.

And he would play: [Instrumental]
End on [A] [C]