My papa was a hobo when they delivered me,
We didn't have a doctor 'cause he couldn't pay the fee,
But when the goin' got too rough to ease his misery,
Papa played the Dobro this way and he'd go . . . .
When company would come around he kept the Dobro hid,
He knew he couldn't play the way the other players did,
Why the guitar's resonator was a gallon bucket lid,
But papa played the Dobro this way and he'd go . . . .
Well now that papa's gone away it's hanging by the flue,
The top of it's busted and the strings are rusty too,
It'll never sound the way it did when it was new,
When papa played the Dobro this way and he'd go . . . .
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