[Intro]
E  D  A  E
[Strophe]
        E                           B 
Well, I used to wake the morning before the rooster crowed 
E                                 A               F# 
   Searching for soda bottles to get myself some dough 
E                                  B 
   Brought 'em down to the corner, down to the country store 
A                                     A7               E 
   Cash 'em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Loew
[Strophe]
E              B              A              E 
Old Curt was a black man with white curly hair 
E             B                D              A 
When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care 
E                     B              A                  E 
He used to own an old dobro, used to play it across his knee 
E            B                   D                 E  E7 
I'd give old Curt my money, he'd play all day for me
[Refrain]
A                     E            E7 
Play me a song Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew 
A                                E              E7 
Well, I got your drinking money, tune up your dobro 
A                                E              F# 
People said he was useless, them people are the fools 
      E                   D                A              E 
cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues
[Instrumentale]
E  D  D  E
[Strophe]
E               B      A               E 
He looked to be sixty, and maybe I was ten 
E            B               D            A 
Mama used to whip me but I'd go see him again 
E                  B               A              E 
I'd clap my hands, stomp my feets, try to stay in time 
E              B 
He'd play me a song or two 
     D                     E    E7 
Then take another drink of wine.
[Refrain]
A                     E            E7 
Play me a song Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew 
A                                E              E7 
Well, I got your drinking money, tune up your dobro 
A                                E              F# 
People said he was useless, them people are the fools 
      E                   D                A              E 
cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues
[Interlude]
E  D  A  A
 
  
Yes sir
[Solo]
E  B  A  E
E  B  D  E
E  B  A  E
E  B  D  E
 
A  A  E  E
A  A  E  E
A  A  E  F#  F#
E  D  A  E
[Strophe]
E              B            A              E 
On the day old Curtis died, nobody came to pray 
E            B                         D                  A 
Ol' preacher said some words, and they chunked him in the clay 
E               B        A                       E 
Well he lived a lifetime playin' the black man's blues 
E                 B                     D             E    E7 
And on the day he lost his life, that's all he had to lose
[Refrain]
A                     E                     E7 
Play me a song Curtis Loew, hey Curtis Loew 
A                           E                   E7 
I wish that you was here so everyone would know 
A                                E              F# 
People said he was useless, them people all are fools 
      E                 D                A              E 
cause Curtis you're the finest picker to ever play the blues
[Outro]
E  D  D  E
E  D  A  E