Well, I quit my job down at the car wash,
Left my mama a goodbye note,
By sundown I`d left Kingston,
With my guitar under my coat,
I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis,
Got a room at the YMCA,
For the next three weeks 
I went huntin` them nights,
Just lookin` for a place to play,
Well, I thought my pickin` 
would set `em on fire,
But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man.

Well, I nearly `bout starved
to death down in Memphis,
I run outta money and luck,
So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia,
On a overloaded poultry truck,
I thumbed on down to Panama City,
Started pickin` out some o` them all night bars,
Hopin` I could make myself a dollar,
Makin` music on my guitar,
I got the same old story at them all night piers,
There ain`t no room around here for a guitar man
We don`t need a guitar man, son

So I slept in the hobo jungles,
Roamed a thousand miles of track,
Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama,
At a club they call Big Jack`s,
A little four-piece band was jammin`,
So I took my guitar and I sat in,
I showed `em what a band would sound like,
With a swingin` little guitar man.
Show `em, son

If you ever take a trip down to the ocean,
Find yourself down around Mobile,
Make it on out to a club called Jack`s,
If you got a little time to kill,
Just follow that crowd of people,
You`ll wind up out on his dance floor, Diggin` the finest little five-piece group,
Up and down the Gulf of Mexico,
Guess who`s leadin` that five-piece band,
Well, wouldn`t ya know, it`s that 
swingin` little guitar man.