Let the Guitar Do the Talkin'

I was in a band, we were scheduled to appear

At a little roadhouse called the Get Down Here

A cinder block building with a hand-painted sign

Hunkered down straddling the county lines

When the crowd rolled in, they were a motley mix

There were truckers, bikers, drifters and locals from the sticks

Each one meaner than a cougar in a cage

And the biggest one swaggered right up to the stage

He said, "We've heard everybody from David Allen Coe

To Chuck Berry singing "Go, Johnny go go"

Got an autographed picture of Elvis on the shelf

So tell me, boy, what you got to say for yourself?

I let the guitar do the talkin'

And the whole place started rockin'

My fingertips weren't stoppin'

And that big old dude started boppin'

No need to fuss, stop the squalkin'

Just let the guitar do the talkin'

She was over in a corner with a cheshire smile

Best lookin' thing seventeen miles

Sittin' there makin' my cold beer sweat

I figure my chances were a long shot bet

Because a woman like that's heard every line

And I never have been the silver-tongue kind

But I knew I had me one good chance

Of gettin' that girl to dance, so I cranked up my amp

And let the guitar do the talkin'

And the whole place started rockin'

My fingertips weren't stoppin'

And that pretty little thing started boppin'

No need to fuss and stop your squalkin'

And let the guitar do the talkin'

And in a world of too many words

Sometimes your point is hard to get heard

But I think I figured out a little way of getting mine through

I just strap it on, tune it up, stick it in the hole

Power on, count it off, hold it up, a hard solo

Let the guitar do the talkin'

And the whole place started rockin'

My fingertips weren't stoppin'

And everybody started boppin'

No need to fuss, stop squalkin'

Just let your guitar do the talkin'