This old guitar and me
C.F. Martin built him
Well, home was just a highway
Well, I've settled with my family
Until my dyin' day
This old guitar and me
From Maine to California
So we headed for Kentucky
God sent a wooden angel
Not caring where we're bound
With a suitcase full of dreams
We'd wake up in the morning
My rough-out books, a few T-shirts
They said your future's written on your face
I remember when we met
On a half a dozen strings
One was born a sinner
To guide me on my way
Lies underneath my bed
Just me and that old flattop
We were meant to be together
Here in the hills of Tennessee
One night stands for breakfast
And take bar maid home
Lord, we did the best we could
To teach my children's children
Back in nineteen forty-two
When you sing those travelin' songs
A worn out pair of jeans, ooh
We spent a lot of nights alone
We'd roam from town to town
Man, but the memories fill my head
With a five piece travelin' band
Singin' songs about the hard times
Two strangers with the blues
I found out I was wrong
Well, sometimes we'd get lucky
I was only seventeen
Well, our travelin' days are over
Well, now my dearest old companion
I spent all my college money
And both feel a little used
That face the common man, ooh
I thought my folks would kill me
And one a piece of wood
