The Five-String Song

Grandpa would come in from the fields And pick up his five string. Mr. Dawson would come a-walkin' across the hills, Carrying his guitar case. And they'd sit on the front porch while the Sun disappeared behind the Mountainside. And they'd sip on some moonshine, Play a little out of time, and I would Sit and listen All night. And I've heard a choir in Chicago that sounded like Angels. And I've heard a symphony Play in Carnegie Hall. But the sweetest sound this Side of heaven That I've heard so far-Oh So far. Oh so far. Came from two old friends, a Gibson Banjo and a beat up old Martin guitar. Well they knew How to make Those hollers and ridges Ring. And they'd only take a break, Take a chew or tune a String. They'd pick the Wildwood Flower and the Foggy Mountain Breakdown. But the last song they would play Was Amazing Grace. Oh how sweet the Sound. And I've heard the blues played in Memphis, and man that was Something. And I've heard jazz in New Orleans, I've rocked and rolled in LA. But the sweetest sound this Side of heaven That I've heard so Far Came from two old friends, a Gibson Banjo and a beat up old Martin guitar. My grandpa would come in from the Fields and pick up his five String.