The Old Man And His Horn

Gene Watson

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The Old man told his story about the years gone byHow he played his horn down in New Orleans in some old dingy dive\"I knew 'em all back then.\" he said as he reached out for his hornHe closed his eyes and wet his lips then the blues were born.He played with so much feelin', tears came from his eyesHe stopped and reminisced a bit and then he gave a sigh!Said, \"You know, I almost made it but that was before your timeDixieland, Po' Folks Blues, ScatMan Jack and wine.\"Slapped his knee and gave a grin, it sure was good back thenReaching for his horn on the floorplaced it in an old towsack that hung across his backHe said \"Goodbye!\" then shuffled out the doorEnthused by what he told me, I never got his nameSo, I called the waitress over and started to explainA tired old man - his tarnished horn, mem'ries of years gone byHow he played his horn and reminisced, smiled with tear-dimmed eyes.She said you are mistaken, there's been no one but youBut I know who you're talkin' 'bout, I used to know him, tooYou'll find him down on Basin Street in back of an old churchyardA stone that reads, \"Rest in Peace\", I tried but it sure was hard.\"Chorus

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