Tennessee Flat-Top Box

<p>[Verse]<br/>In a little cabaret in a South Texas border town<br/>Sat a boy and his guitar<br/>And the people came from miles around<br/>And all the girls from there to Austin<br/>Were slipping away from home and putting jewelery in hock<br/>To take the trip, to go and listen<br/>To the little dark-haired boy<br/>That played the Tennessee flat top box<br/>And he would play<br/><br/>Well, he couldn&#x27;t ride or wrangle<br/>And he never cared to make a dime<br/>But give him his guitar, and he&#x27;d be happy all the time<br/>And all the girls from nine to ninety<br/>Were snapping fingers, tapping toes<br/>And begging him don&#x27;t stop<br/>And hypnotized and fascinated<br/>By the little dark-haired boy<br/>That played the Tennessee flat top box<br/>And he would play<br/>Then one day he was gone, and no one ever saw him around<br/>He&#x27;d vanished like the breeze, they forgot him in the little town<br/>But all the girls still dreamed about him<br/>And hung around the cabaret until the doors were locked<br/>And then one day on the Hit Parade<br/>Was a little dark-haired boy<br/>That played the Tennessee flat top box<span><br/><br/>[Outro]<br/>And he would play