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Lyrics
Beale Street 1963Memphis Tennessee, down at the dinerWas a young lad, name of Johnny GreenServing the bluesmen, nothing could be finer
Than pulled pork on a bunGrits and catfish, well-doneGot clam chowder by the bowlHe'll bring you butter for your roll
CH:Johnny GreenCome on Johnny GreenNow you can do betterYou'll see what I mean
Johnny had no money, to buy a guitarSo he just watched them come and goOld bluesmen from the stripWith their crooked fingers and worn out hips
One rainy Sunday night on stageThe king of Beale St. passed awayIn his coat they found this note:"Take my guitar and play, Johnny, play"
CH
One day a poster caught his eyeOn the corner at the record shop"Open Stage - Come One, Come All"So he took his guitar and packed it up
In a paper bag, walked through the rainPulled it out, plugged it inIt was the king of Beale St., reincarnatedHis fingers and his guitar reunited
CH
Johnny GreenJohnny GreenNow you`re the king of the Memphis scene
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