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He was a good old mountain boy from the state of Kentuck.
His Pappy taught him some fiddlin' and a banjo how to pluck.
He was mighty good on the mandolin and the guitar too.
Sippin' a jar of 'shine, my oh my, how his fingers flew!

He'd sit on the cabin porch by the hour a-strummin' away,
Shirkin' his chores, much to his poor old Pa's dismay.
But his Ma saw innate talent in that boy of her'n,
And she cheered him on for the career that he did yearn!

He'd fiddle a rousin' "Orange Blossom Special," bow a-smokin';
On the mandolin a Strauss waltz, his fingers gently strokin'.
He'd learned to play a harmonica as it rested on his chest.
His fame was whispered about throughout the great Midwest!

He formed a little band and played at all the county fairs,
Union halls, the VFW and other such local affairs.
They had a piano, drum, strings and bull-fiddle bass.
Saturdays their gig was at a honky-tonk called Lenora's Place.

His fate was sealed when a talent scout happened by.
"Son", he said, "You can kiss this smalltown stuff goodbye.
Come to Nashville with me and I'll make you all the rage!"
He became a sideman for stars on the Grand Ole Opry stage!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)

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