Screamn' whitewall tires and a guitar by his side
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Billy's got the fever as he rolls on thru the night
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Some were born to listen, some were born to play
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He was lightning on the highstrings and thunder on the bass
|
|
He could play it high, he could play it low
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He could make it cry, he could make it moan
|
He knows when push comes to shove
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The proof's in the pickin'
|
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In a smoky little tavern just off of Bourbon Street
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Tobacco stained fingers waited on the down beat
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Conley was the master, the undisputed king
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He'd ruled the town for thirty years
|
With an army of six strings
|
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He could play it high, he could play it low
|
He could make it cry, he could make it moan
|
He knows when push comes to shove
|
The proof's in the pickin'
|
|
Sometimes after midnight Billy drives through New Orleans
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Straight to the French Quarter there's a man he has to see
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The music is a raging like a city that's on fire
|
Billy felt just like an altar boy at the feet of a higher power
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Conley watched as Billy walked across the room
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Opened his case and started a tune
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The whole club was silent and the lights were turned down low
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Billy stepped up on the stage and Conley whispered, "Go son, go"
|
|
He could play it high, he could play it low
|
He could make it cry, he could make it moan
|
He knows when push comes to shove
|
The proof's in the pickin'
|
|
Conley held his hand up, no one made a sound
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And he handed Bill his old archtop and stepped into the crowd
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Billy played it soft, Billy played it sad
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Then he made it talk and in came the band
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Soon the room was shaking before Billy's wall of sound
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And just a block off Bourbon Street, a new king's been crowned.
|
|
He could play it high, he could play it low
|
He could make it cry, he could make it moan
|
He knows when push comes to shove
|
The proof's in the pickin'
|
|
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The Ballad Of Conley And Billy (The Proof's In The Pickin')
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| Diamond Rio |
