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Doyle Lawson

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Doyle Lawson

Dobro Joe

Doyle Lawson feat. Quicksilver

He couldn't make his fingers play
Like they used to anymore
But he couldn't keep from singing
Country songs
From an old pocket spit toon
And a rummaged sale guitar
He made himself a dobro
So that he could play along
He couldn't hold the slide
So he taped it to his hand
And he'd play for me a song
From long ago
I'd hear it come alive
As I listened to him sing
Nobody ever played them
Quite like my good friend, Joe
Just an old dobro
Laid across his knee
Joe, won't you play
A song for me

He couldn't write a letter
So talked to me on tape
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Then he'd pick a few
And talk to me some more
'Billy Clide,' he'd say,
'Since you're so far away,
I'll sing for you a song
Like the ones we played before.'
Just an old dobro
Laid across his knee
Joe, won't you play
A song for me

That was thirty years ago
Those tapes are getting old
My how the years
Have passed me by
My hiar's turned to grey
My friend Joe's passed away
And the echo of his dobro
Brings a teardrop to my eye
Just an old dobro
Laid across his knee
Joe, won't you play
A song for me