I was on a bus
Coming back to us
From Atlanta in fifty-three
And I picked up a "Rhythm And Blues" magazine
Laying
Underneath my seat
And I found out the stuff
They'd been playing us
Wasn't made from grits and bone
And it would take more than the Crew Cuts
And Pat Boone to take me home
I want the real thing
Give me the real thing
Make it loud
Make you proud
Of the songs they sing
I don't want you under my roof
With your eighty-six proof
Watered down till it tastes like tea
You're gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing for me
I remember old Elvis
When he forgot
To remember to forget
And when young Johnny Cash
Hadn't seen this side of
Big River yet
And when Sun was more
Then daylights shining
On Memphis, Tennessee
And Luther and Lewis
And Perkins was picking
And playing them songs for me
I want the real thing
Give me the real thing
Make it loud
Make you proud
Of the songs they sing
I don't want you under my roof
With your eighty-six proof
Watered down till it tastes like tea
You're gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing for me
I want the real thing
Give me the real thing
Make it loud
Make you proud
Of the songs they sing
I don't want you under my roof
With your eighty-six proof
Watered down till it tastes like tea
You're gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing for me
You're gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing for me