Tennessee Flat-Top Box

In a little cabaret in a South Texas border town Sat a boy and his guitar, and the people came from all around And all the girls from there to Austin Were slippin' away from home and puttin' jewelery in hock To take the trip, to go and listen To the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flat top box And he would play Well, he couldn't ride or wrangle, and he never cared to make a dime But give him his guitar, and he'd be happy all the time And all the girls from nine to 90 Were snapping fingers, tapping toes, and begging him, "Don't stop" And hypnotized and fascinated By the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flat top box And he would play Then one day he was gone, and no one ever saw him 'round He'd vanished like the breeze and they forgot him in the little town But all the girls still dreamed about him And hung around the cabaret until the doors were locked And then one day on the Hit Parade Was a little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flat top box And he would play