Piano Man
In Memphis, on Beale Street,
The piano man played,
A whiskey on ice at his side.
He commanded his fingers
And oh, they obeyed
And we all tagged along for the ride.
He sang what he liked
And he'd take a request
And he did a fine job at the keys.
If it were an interview,
He'd passed the test
For his voice and his playing did please.
The few of us there
Tossed some tips in his jar
And we clapped and I'm sure he felt good,
But there's one just like him
In so many a bar,
Never earning the money he should.
But he raised up our night,
Gamely playing his role
And we're lucky we walked through that door;
Yet no matter how much
He gave out of his soul,
He'll be back the next night, giving more.
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