Well I used to wake the mornin', before the rooster crowed
Searchin' for soda bottles to get my self some dough
Brought 'em down to the corner, down to the country store
Cash 'em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Lowe

Old Curt was a black man with white curly hair
When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care
He used to own and old Dobro used to play across his knee
I'd give old Curt my money he play all day for me

Play me a song Curtis Lowe, Curtis Lowe
Well I got your drinkin' money tune up your Dobro
People said he was useless, them people all were fools
'Cuz Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues

He looked to be 60 maybe I was 10
Momma used to whoop me but I'd go see him again
I'd clap my hands, stomp my feet tryin' to keep in time
Well he'd play me a song or 2 then take another drink of wine

Play me a song Curtis Lowe, Curtis Lowe
Well I got your drinkin' money tune up your Dobro
People said he was useless, but them people all were fools
'Cuz Curtis Lowe was the finest picker to ever play the blues

On the day old Curtis died nobody came to pray
Old preacher said some words they chucked him in the clay
Well he lived a lifetime playin' the black mans blues
And on the day he lost his life that's all he had to lose

Play me a song Curtis Lowe, Curtis Lowe
I wish that you was here so everyone would know
People said he was useless, but them people all were fools
'Cuz Curtis your finest picker to ever play the blues