I shouldn't come in here, because it may stop the thread and it's making me feel good! Many thanks Mary and all others. Her indoors will post too. Just for the record, a couple of things in the lyric above are misheard so here's the corrections. It's great to think of the songs being sung. As I always say, "A song unsung is a dead song" (to the tune of "Hi, Lily, hi lily, hi lo").

He'd an old-fashioned way when he started to play.
He'd an old-fashioned steel guitar.
With no amps and no leads, it fulfilled all his needs
And together they'd both traveled far.

Just an old troubadour on an old barroom floor,
Just an old troubadour and his song,
But it tore them apart 'cause it came from his heart
And they'd not heard that art for so long.

Then a kid playing pool said, "This old man's a fool.
He's not cool; just a ghoul past his prime."
So he walked to the wall where the jukebox stood tall
And he paid for some hits of the time.

Then a girl passed him by with a look in her eye
That said, "Don't even try to oppose,"
Pulled the plug from the wall, said, "An ass needs a stall
And we all hope you've got one of those."

She stood her ground. she stared him down.
The kid raised a fist, then he smiled.
He said, "You're wasted on him," then he turned with a grin
And said, "Girls like you drive me wild.
You're young enough to be the old man's child."

When the kid left the room, a chord filled the gloom
And a voice sang a song for the stars,
For the breeze in the trees, for nights such as these,
And for girls who find lovers in bars.

And when the chord died like a wave on the tide,
Like the cry from a high-flying bird,
He put down his guitar. She said, "I've got my car
And a jar if you just say the word."

So that old troubadour left that old barroom floor.
Yes, that old troubadour sang her song,
And it tore her apart 'cause it came from his heart
And she'd not felt that art for so long.

He'd an old-fashioned way when he started to play.
He'd an old-fashioned steel guitar.
With no amps and no leads, it fulfilled all his needs
And together they'd both traveled far.

Just an old troubadour on an old barroom floor,
Just an old troubadour and his song,
But it tore them apart 'cause it came from his heart
And they'd not heard that art for so long.

Yes, it tore them apart 'cause it came from his heart
And they'd not felt that art for so long.