Lyrics John Anderson – Let The Guitar Do The Talkin’

I was in a band, we were scheduled to appear
At a little roadhouse called the Get Down Here
A cinder block building with a hand-painted sign
Hunkered down straddling the county lines

When the crowd rolled in, they were a motley mix
There were truckers, bikers, drifters and locals from the sticks
Each one meaner than a cougar in a cage
And the biggest one swaggered right up to the stage

He said, «We’ve heard everybody from David Allen Coe
To Chuck Berry singing «Go, Johnny go go»
Got an autographed picture of Elvis on the shelf
So tell me, boy, what you got to say for yourself?

I let the guitar do the talkin’
And the whole place started rockin’
My fingertips weren’t stoppin’
And that big old dude started boppin’
No need to fuss, stop the squalkin’
Just let the guitar do the talkin’

She was over in a corner with a cheshire smile
Best lookin’ thing seventeen miles
Sittin’ there makin’ my cold beer sweat
I figure my chances were a long shot bet

Because a woman like that’s heard every line
And I never have been the silver-tongue kind
But I knew I had me one good chance
Of gettin’ that girl to dance, so I cranked up my amp

And let the guitar do the talkin’
And the whole place started rockin’
My fingertips weren’t stoppin’
And that pretty little thing started boppin’

And in a world of too many words
Sometimes your point is hard to get heard
But I think I figured out a little way of getting mine through
I just strap it on, tune it up, stick it in the hole
Power on, count it off, hold it up, a hard solo

Let the guitar do the talkin’
And the whole place started rockin’
My fingertips weren’t stoppin’
And everybody started boppin’
No need to fuss, stop squalkin’
Just let your guitar do the talkin’