He was sitting out on his front porch picking
When I snugged up from behind his shack
He was playing that old beat up guitar
Here's for a dog that he called Jack
Now my daddy used to tell, "Boy
Now don't go wandering round his place
For that man could be satan's right arm
He's got evil in his face"
Oh, boy, he made that old beat up guitar
Sound like it costs a hundred dollar bill
You know, he lost all of his fingers
Working in a Blackwood saw mill
I used to stand there in the darkness
And I listened while he played
And until this very day
I can still recall
The ever lick he ever made
He played funky blues, folky rock
He didn't know they have a name
He could ring them strings
Make them sing
Way ahead of the game
He took his thumb
And he'd slap it numb
Say, "Jack, here's I done
Now just lay back and listen, boy
To the man with the golden thumb"
But one night I finally got up my nerve
And walked up to the old man
And them cold black eyes
Stared down at me
And my feet kinda shuffled in the sand
He said, "Hey, what's a kid like you
Doing hanging round an old man like me?"
I said, "Mister, I just love your playing"
He said, "Well, just pull up and have a seat"
Well, I spent a lot of time at his cabin
Just him and that old dog and me
And folks, it was there that I heard
The best guitar in the state of Tennessee
And you know to my eyes it was a miracle
Just to see the way it was done
The good Lord made him poor and blind
But He gave him a golden thumb
I spent many a night in his cabin
And he taught me everything I know
He said, "Son
We're gonna take your banjo
And my guitar and hit the road"
So we went down to Dallas and we killed them
Did the same thing in New Orleans
We raised the roof in old Saint Louis
I can still hear the people scream
I can feel it in my fingers
You can hear him every time I strum
But a whole lot of pickers
But they can't hold the candles
For the man with the golden thumb
He played funky blues, folky rock
He didn't know they have a name
He could ring them strings
Make them sing
He was way ahead of the game
He'd take his thumb
And slap it numb
And say, "Boy, here that's how it's done
And if you take note
You might learn to play
Like the man with the golden thumb"
Let the old man have it, son
Alright, son, take notes