#
From: Steve Vetter 
Message-ID: 
Subject: CRD: Lynyrd Skynyrd - The Ballad of Curtis Loew


 The Ballad of Curtis Loew
 by Lynyrd Skynyrd

G                          D       C (walk down to)  G
 Well, I used to wake the mornin' before the rooster crowed,
G                     D       C (walk down to)  G
 Searchin' for soda bottles to get myself some dough.
G                     D       C (walk down to)  G
 Run 'em down to the corner, down to the country store,
G                   D                 C (walk down to)  G
 Cash 'em in, and give my money to a man named Curtis Loew.

 Old Curt was a black man with white curly hair,
 When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care,
 He used to own an old Dobro, used to play it 'cross his knee
 I give old Curt my money, he play all day for me.

  C                     G             G7
 Play me a song, Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew,
  C                                G             G7
 Well, I got your drinkin' money, tune up your Dobro.
  C                                 G              A
 People said he was useless, them people all were fools,
         G                   D                C             G
 'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues

 He looked to be sixty, and maybe I was ten,
 Mama used to whup me, but I'd go see him again.
 I clap my hands, stomp my feets, try to stay in time,
 He'd play a song or two, then take another drink of wine.

 Play me a song, Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew,
 Well, I got your drinkin' money, tune up your Dobro.
 People said he was useless, them people all were fools,
 'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues

 On the day old Curtis died, nobody came and prayed.
 Ol' preacher said some words, and they chunked him in the grave.
 Well, he lived a lifetime, playin' the black man's blues
 And on the day he lost his life, that's all he had to lose.

 Play me a song, Curtis Loew, hey, Curtis Loew,
 I wish that you was here so ev'ryone would know
 People said he was useless, them people all were fools,
 'Cause, Curtis, you're the finest picker to ever play the blues.


: Transcribed by Rich Kulawiec, rsk@ecn.purdue.edu
Chords guessed at by Walt Dabell walt@diusys.cms.udel.edu


From: schwebel@labri.u-bordeaux.fr (Olivier SCHWEBEL [93-94])
Subject: l/lynyrd.skynyrd/the.ballad.of.curtis.loeb

LYNYRD SKYNYRD   The Ballad Of Curtis Loew
from 'Second Helping'

Intro:   E    D    E
        (E)                      B
Well, I used to wake the mornin' before the rooster crowed,
E                             A               F#
Searchin' for soda bottles to get myself some dough.
E                           B
Run 'em down to the corner, down to the country store,
A                                                    E
Cash 'em in, and give my money to a man named Curtis Loew.

Verse:
E              B              A           E
Old Curt was a black man with white curly hair,
(E)                    B           A          E
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 'cross his knee
(E)                B         A                E
I give old Curt my money, he play all day for me.

Chorus:
  A                     E            E7
Play me a song, Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew,
  A                                E           E7
Well, I got your drinkin' money, tune up your Dobro.
  A                                E             F#
People said he was useless, them people all were fools,
        E                  D                A             E       E   D   E
'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues

He looked to be sixty, and maybe I was ten,
Mama used to whup me, but I'd go see him again.
I clap my hands, stomp my feets, try to stay in time,
He'd play a song or two, then take another drink of wine.

Play me a song, Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew,
Well, I got your drinkin' money, tune up your Dobro.
People said he was useless, them people all were fools,
'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues