Vince Gill
180426271.gif

This old guitar and me
And the things that we've been through
C.F. Martin built him
Back in nineteen fourty-two.

I remember when we met
I was only seventeen
I spent all my college money
On a half a dozen strings.

I thought my folks would kill me
I found out I was wrong
They said your future's written on your face
When you sing those travelin' songs.

So we headed for Kentucky
With a suitcase full of dreams
My rough-out books, a few t-shirts
A worn out pair of jeans.

Ooh.

This old guitar and me
We spent a lot of nights alone
Well, sometimes we'd get lucky
And take bar maid home.

One night stands for breakfast
Two strangers with the blues
We'd wake up in the morning
And both feel a little used.

Well, home was just a highway
We'd roam from town to town
Just me and that old flattop
Not caring where we're bound.

>From Maine to California
With a five piece travelin' band
Singin' songs about the hard times
That face the common man.

Ooh.

This old guitar and me
Lord, we did the best we could
One was born a sinner
And one a piece of wood.

God sent a wooden angel
To guide me on my way
We were meant to be together
Until my dyin' day.

Well, now my dearest old companion
Lies underneath my bed
Well, our travelin' days are over
Man, but the memories fill my head.

Well, I've settled with my family
Here in the hills of Tennessee
To teach my children's children
'Bout this old guitar and me.

Ooh...


Mirror lyrics:

Ooh...

'Bout this old guitar and me.
To teach my children's children
Here in the hills of Tennessee
Well, I've settled with my family

Man, but the memories fill my head.
Well, our travelin' days are over
Lies underneath my bed
Well, now my dearest old companion

Until my dyin' day.
We were meant to be together
To guide me on my way
God sent a wooden angel

And one a piece of wood.
One was born a sinner
Lord, we did the best we could
This old guitar and me

Ooh.

That face the common man.
Singin' songs about the hard times
With a five piece travelin' band
>From Maine to California

Not caring where we're bound.
Just me and that old flattop
We'd roam from town to town
Well, home was just a highway

And both feel a little used.
We'd wake up in the morning
Two strangers with the blues
One night stands for breakfast

And take bar maid home.
Well, sometimes we'd get lucky
We spent a lot of nights alone
This old guitar and me

Ooh.

A worn out pair of jeans.
My rough-out books, a few t-shirts
With a suitcase full of dreams
So we headed for Kentucky

When you sing those travelin' songs.
They said your future's written on your face
I found out I was wrong
I thought my folks would kill me

On a half a dozen strings.
I spent all my college money
I was only seventeen
I remember when we met

Back in nineteen fourty-two.
C.F. Martin built him
And the things that we've been through
This old guitar and me


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