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I go in for singing |
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I do it for my pay |
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But the kind of gig I can really dig |
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Is swiggin' at the break of day |
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With a few good friends and neighbors |
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Into playin' the nighttime tunes |
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So pass the jar and that old guitar |
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In this hangdog hotel room |
|
Oh Lord, it feels so good |
|
To play a nighttime tune |
|
So pass the jar and that old guitar |
|
In this hangdog hotel room |
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I believe in magic |
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A little monkeyshines |
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But the kind of row I can really hoe |
|
Is playin' in tune on time |
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With rhythms all around us |
|
We're like weavers at the loom |
|
So pass the jar and that old guitar |
|
In this hangdog hotel room |
|
Oh Lord, it feels so good |
|
To play a nighttime tune |
|
So pass the jar and that old guitar |
|
In this hangdog hotel room |
|
When it comes to mornin' |
|
And goin' out at night |
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Well, the kind of test that I like the best |
|
Is rubbin' the wrong girl right |
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And a few good friends and neighbors |
|
In to playin' the nighttime tunes |
|
So pass the jar and that old guitar |
|
In this hangdog hotel room |
|
Oh Lord, it feels so good |
|
To play a nighttime tune |
|
So pass the jar and that old guitar |
|
In this hangdog hotel room |
|
With rhythms all around us |
|
We're like weavers at the loom |
|
So pass the jar and that old guitar |
|
In this hangdog hotel room |
