All American Boy

Gather 'round cats and I'll tell you a story 'Bout how to become an all-American Boy. Just buy you a guitar and put it in tune And you'll be a rockin and a rollin soon. Impressin the girls, hittin hot licks, and all that jazz. I bought me a guitar about a year ago and I Learned how to play it in a day or so. And all around town it was well understood That I was knocking 'em out like Johnny B. Goode. Hot licks, showing off, ah, number one. Well I practiced all day and up into the night, My papa's hair was a gettin kinda white. He didn't dig that, ah, rock and roll. He said, "You can stay boy, but that's gotta go." He's a square; just didn't dig me at all. So I packed my guitar, picks and all, bid farewell to my poor old pa. I split for Memphis where they say 'you all' And them swinging cats are a havin a ball. Yeah, they love me down there, guitar picks and all. I was rocking and bopping and getting all the breaks, And the girls all said that I had what it takes, When up steps a man with a big cigar. He said. "Come here, kid. I'm gonna make you a star." Put you on "Bandstand', buy you a cadillac. Sign here, kid." So I signed my name and became a star, having a ball with my guitar. Driving a big, long cadillac. And fighting the girls off'n my back. But they just keep a comin, screaming, they love it. So I picked my guitar with a great big grin And the money just kept on rollin in. And then one day my Uncle Sam said (thump, thump, thump) "here I am! Uncle Sam needs you, boy. Gonna cut your hair off, Gimme that guitar, Take this rifle. Yeahhhh