You give me just a minute o’ your time, I show you how to sing them blues.
Me and this guitar, we come a long way. One town after ‘nother.
Them stories? Exaggerated. Never was ALL the kids o’ Hamlyn. Just one. Not unlike yourself, she was. Here, I’ll play her song. Sweet as molasses, that voice. Listen close, you hear it?
She sayin’ “Help,” my honey. Like I say, pure blues. And you’ll sing just like her, oh yes.
No sense running. You got no rhythm, kid, but you got something we need. Something we crave.
You got soul.
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