Tennessee Flat Top Box - Gaither, Rosanne Cash

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' jewelry in hock

To take a trip to go and listen to the little dark-haired boy

Who 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 ninety

Were snappin' fingers, tappin' toes, and beggin' him «don't stop»

And hypnotized and fascinated by the little dark-haired boy

Who played the Tennessee flat-top box

And he would play:

Then one day he was gone and no one ever saw him 'round

He 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: