Hooter Thunkit

On guitars the ends of new fingers get sore

on fiddles they holler hey second one more

and in time the crowd is all stomping the floor

as to pain this old music is blind

before we can stop we all start up again

a raising another old tune in the din

and nowhere in sight any sign of an end

to this music seducing my mind

you sure got that right my wife says to me

as I read her this scratchy old bad rhymery

you’re the last one to stop and the first one to stay

til everyone’s cased up and gone

There ain’t never been nothing better than love

at least there ain’t nothing that I can think of

and fiddlin’ll get it and then drive it away

if you’re not careful when to go home

a professional knows when to just disappear

but me it seems one more tune I must hear

and through all this fiddling it starts to get clear

why we’ll never be top of the charts

but its so just as well that it all stays just so

we might have to share it with folks we don’t know

from places we know we would not want to go

in ways that would just break our hearts

On guitars the ends of new fingers get sore

after awhile there toughened and more

to be used for what fingers were meant to be for

like the ones attached here to me

I think of the things that we all might have been

if not for a stroking this old violin

I think of the thing that our children might be

if they don’t get caught up in this fiddle-y-diddle-y-dee