The Wood Wouldn't Burn

My old man had a dying wish
Bought it with his bone and flesh
That you should have this old guitar
We pulled it out of the fire

He always liked the way you played
He knew the sacrifice you made
To leave your family for the lonely road
& send the money that you made back home

1952 Gibson FlatTop
Blisters on the neck & ashes on the headstock
Held together with the rusty wire
The wood wouldn’t burn in the fire
No, that wood wouldn’t burn in the fire

My old man didn’t play that much
He let the strings get rusty when he lost his touch
So down in the basement it went
With the babybooks and Christmas ornaments

The fire started on the ground floor
Took my husband and my son before
It crept down the basement stairs
Then I guess it just ran out of air

CHORUS

He was a regular at all of your shows
He knew your daddy and he watched you grow
Into the man that you are today
How I wish that he could hear you play

So sing about him in your sad sad songs
Play your hot licks & hear him sing along
& when the crowd wants a little more
bring him out for an encore