Guitar Man Lyrics
| Song | Guitar Man |
| Artist | Elvis Presley |
| Album | Guitar Man |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Lyrics：Hubbard Music：Hubbard | |
| Well, I quit my job down at the car wash, | |
| Left my mama a goodbye note, | |
| By sundown I'd left Kingston, | |
| With my guitar under my coat, | |
| I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis, | |
| Got a room at the YMCA, | |
| For the next three weeks I went huntin' them nights, | |
| Just lookin' for a place to play, | |
| Well, I thought my pickin' would set 'em on fire, | |
| But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man. | |
| Well, I nearly 'bout starved to death down in Memphis, | |
| I run outta money and luck, | |
| So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia, | |
| On a overloaded poultry truck, | |
| I thumbed on down to Panama City, | |
| Started pickin' out some o' them all night bars, | |
| Hopin' I could make myself a dollar, | |
| Makin' music on my guitar, | |
| I got the same old story at them all night piers, | |
| There ain't no room around here for a guitar man | |
| We don't need a guitar man, son | |
| So I slept in the hobo jungles, | |
| Roamed a thousand miles of track, | |
| Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama, | |
| At a club they call Big Jack's, | |
| A little four-piece band was jammin', | |
| So I took my guitar and I sat in, | |
| I showed 'em what a band would sound like, | |
| With a swingin' little guitar man. | |
| Show 'em, son | |
| If you ever take a trip down to the ocean, | |
| Find yourself down around Mobile, | |
| Make it on out to a club called Jack's, | |
| If you got a little time to kill, | |
| Just follow that crowd of people, | |
| You'll wind up out on his dance floor, | |
| Diggin' the finest little five-piece group, | |
| Up and down the Gulf of Mexico, | |
| Guess who's leadin' that five-piece band, | |
| Well, wouldn't ya know, it's that swingin' little guitar man. | |
| The TV-special verse: | |
| Well, I came a long way from the carwash, | |
| Got to where I said I'd get | |
| Now that I'm here I know for sure | |
| I really ain't got there yet | |
| Think I'll start all over | |
| Swing my guitar over my back | |
| I'm gonna get myself back on the track | |
| I'll never, never ever look back | |
| I'll never be more than what I am | |
| Wouldn't you know | |
| I' m a swinging little Guitar man |
| Lyrics: Hubbard Music: Hubbard | |
| Well, I quit my job down at the car wash, | |
| Left my mama a goodbye note, | |
| By sundown I' d left Kingston, | |
| With my guitar under my coat, | |
| I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis, | |
| Got a room at the YMCA, | |
| For the next three weeks I went huntin' them nights, | |
| Just lookin' for a place to play, | |
| Well, I thought my pickin' would set ' em on fire, | |
| But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man. | |
| Well, I nearly ' bout starved to death down in Memphis, | |
| I run outta money and luck, | |
| So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia, | |
| On a overloaded poultry truck, | |
| I thumbed on down to Panama City, | |
| Started pickin' out some o' them all night bars, | |
| Hopin' I could make myself a dollar, | |
| Makin' music on my guitar, | |
| I got the same old story at them all night piers, | |
| There ain' t no room around here for a guitar man | |
| We don' t need a guitar man, son | |
| So I slept in the hobo jungles, | |
| Roamed a thousand miles of track, | |
| Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama, | |
| At a club they call Big Jack' s, | |
| A little fourpiece band was jammin', | |
| So I took my guitar and I sat in, | |
| I showed ' em what a band would sound like, | |
| With a swingin' little guitar man. | |
| Show ' em, son | |
| If you ever take a trip down to the ocean, | |
| Find yourself down around Mobile, | |
| Make it on out to a club called Jack' s, | |
| If you got a little time to kill, | |
| Just follow that crowd of people, | |
| You' ll wind up out on his dance floor, | |
| Diggin' the finest little fivepiece group, | |
| Up and down the Gulf of Mexico, | |
| Guess who' s leadin' that fivepiece band, | |
| Well, wouldn' t ya know, it' s that swingin' little guitar man. | |
| The TVspecial verse: | |
| Well, I came a long way from the carwash, | |
| Got to where I said I' d get | |
| Now that I' m here I know for sure | |
| I really ain' t got there yet | |
| Think I' ll start all over | |
| Swing my guitar over my back | |
| I' m gonna get myself back on the track | |
| I' ll never, never ever look back | |
| I' ll never be more than what I am | |
| Wouldn' t you know | |
| I' m a swinging little Guitar man |
| Lyrics: Hubbard Music: Hubbard | |
| Well, I quit my job down at the car wash, | |
| Left my mama a goodbye note, | |
| By sundown I' d left Kingston, | |
| With my guitar under my coat, | |
| I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis, | |
| Got a room at the YMCA, | |
| For the next three weeks I went huntin' them nights, | |
| Just lookin' for a place to play, | |
| Well, I thought my pickin' would set ' em on fire, | |
| But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man. | |
| Well, I nearly ' bout starved to death down in Memphis, | |
| I run outta money and luck, | |
| So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia, | |
| On a overloaded poultry truck, | |
| I thumbed on down to Panama City, | |
| Started pickin' out some o' them all night bars, | |
| Hopin' I could make myself a dollar, | |
| Makin' music on my guitar, | |
| I got the same old story at them all night piers, | |
| There ain' t no room around here for a guitar man | |
| We don' t need a guitar man, son | |
| So I slept in the hobo jungles, | |
| Roamed a thousand miles of track, | |
| Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama, | |
| At a club they call Big Jack' s, | |
| A little fourpiece band was jammin', | |
| So I took my guitar and I sat in, | |
| I showed ' em what a band would sound like, | |
| With a swingin' little guitar man. | |
| Show ' em, son | |
| If you ever take a trip down to the ocean, | |
| Find yourself down around Mobile, | |
| Make it on out to a club called Jack' s, | |
| If you got a little time to kill, | |
| Just follow that crowd of people, | |
| You' ll wind up out on his dance floor, | |
| Diggin' the finest little fivepiece group, | |
| Up and down the Gulf of Mexico, | |
| Guess who' s leadin' that fivepiece band, | |
| Well, wouldn' t ya know, it' s that swingin' little guitar man. | |
| The TVspecial verse: | |
| Well, I came a long way from the carwash, | |
| Got to where I said I' d get | |
| Now that I' m here I know for sure | |
| I really ain' t got there yet | |
| Think I' ll start all over | |
| Swing my guitar over my back | |
| I' m gonna get myself back on the track | |
| I' ll never, never ever look back | |
| I' ll never be more than what I am | |
| Wouldn' t you know | |
| I' m a swinging little Guitar man |
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