My wife comes from the South Side of Chicago,
and when she first brought me back in ‘ninety four,
down in the basement of her childhood home
I found an old guitar.
She said “That was my great uncle Bill’s,
“I guess he left it to my dad.
“I remember after Bill lost his Kentucky farm,
that Gibson was all he had.”
“But he said ‘I’m not scared of a changing world
Or losing anything we are
‘Cos I wave hi to distant good times
every time I play that guitar.’ “
For eleven quiet years after Bill passed on,
that L-1, I guess, had waited for me
‘Cos it rang one brilliant chord before the bridge caved in
Just to let me hear what it could be
You got to draw lines
Back through time
To know who you really are
Every note Bill played
Rang again that day
When we picked up that old guitar
So it returned with us to New York.
In the hands of The ‘Moose returned to life.
And the sound that it made again
returned Bill to my angel wife
He said, “I’m not scared of a changing world
or losing anything we are.
I just wave hi to distant good times
every time I play that guitar.”
So I’m not scared of a changing world.
We’ve lost nothing that we are.
‘Cos I hear echoes of distant good times
every time I play that old guitar.