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With his hands in the wood
And his eyes on the grain
He carves the lines good
And he works through the pain
And he'd never complain
And I play this guitar
With the subtle refrain
In the smoky old bar
For the people in pain
And I'd never complain
CHORUS:
And sometimes the night and the melodies collide
With the wrongs and the right
The truth and the lies
And this old guitar
It sings through the band
And it rings through the dark
Thanks to the touch
Of the woodworker's hand
So I sit down to write
Guitar in my hand
By the warm fire's light
With the boys in the band
And our melody's grand
And he sits down to carve
Mahogany sides
Of another guitar
That will ring through the night
And he makes it just right
CHORUS
It rings through the dark
Thanks to the touch
Of the woodworker's hand
