In a little cabaret in a South Texas border town,
Sat a boy and his guitar, and the people came from all around
And all the girls from there to Austin,
Were slippin' away from home and puttin' jewelery in hock
To take the trip, to go and listen,
To the little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box

And he would play: (Instrumental)

Well, he couldn't ride or wrangle, and he never cared to make a dime
But give him his guitar, and he'd be happy all the time
And all the girls from nine to ninety,
Were snapping fingers, tapping toes, and begging him: "Don't stop"
And hypnotized and fascinated,
By the little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box

And he would play: (Instrumental)

Then one day he was gone, and no one ever saw him 'round,
He'd vanished like the breeze, they forgot him in the little town
But all the girls still dreamed about him
And hung around the cabaret until the doors were locked
And then one day on the Hit Parade,
Was a little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box

And he would play: (Instrumental)