No Song to Sing

In a holler way back in Virginia I heard a voice calling my name I followed that sound through that old sacred ground Was the first time I had sad old Jane Was the first time I had sad old Jane It felt like the back porch of heaven Where the angels would gather to sing There were banjos and fiddles and a man in the middle There was fire coming out of those strings He could sure make that old guitar ring If not for the bluegrass way back in these hills If not for those high lonesome strings I'd have no love to call my own I'd have no song to sing I'd have no song to sing So many old country stages So many good friends I have made With some help from the Lord I might peg some more With this worn out old guitar I play With this worn out old guitar I play If not for the bluegrass way back in these hills If not for those high lonesome strings I'd have no love to call my own I'd have no song to sing I'd have no song to sing