Saturday, July 30, 2005

I wish I'd written that!


I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died.
They said for the last two weeks that he suffered and cried.
It made a big impression on me, although I was a barefoot kid.
They said he got religion at the end and I’m glad that he did.

Clayton was the best guitar picker in our town;
I thought he was a hero and I used to follow Clayton around.
I often wondered why Clayton, who seemed so good to me
Never took his guitar and made it down in Tenn-o-see.

Well, Daddy said he drank a lot, but I could never understand;
I knew he used to pick up in Ohio with a five-piece band.
Clayton used to tell me, "Son, you better put that old guitar away;
There ain’t no money in it, it’ll lead you to an early grave."

I guess if I’d admit it, Clayton taught me how to drink booze.
I can see him half-stoned, a-pickin’ out the Lovesick Blues.
When Clayton died, I made him a promise I was gonna carry on somehow.
I’d give a hundred dollars if he could only see me now

I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died:
Nobody ever knew it but I went out in the woods and I cried.
Well, I know there’s a lotta big preachers that know a lot more than I do,
But it could be that the good Lord likes a little pickin’ too.

I've known several Claytons in my time, by other names.  This is how I feel about them all.  One, by the way, was named "Leona".

Yeah, I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died

1 comment:

gaboatman said...

A nice homage to the unknown pickers of the world that didn't "make it."  During the summer months I am too busy to play my guitar much.  I have to start building my fingers back into shape each fall.  If you ever want to hear me play, catch me in the winter time after I've been practicing again for a few months, LOL!