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 heart 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, 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 he said, "Girls like you drive me wild.
You're young enough to be the old man's child."

When the kid left the room, the chord filled the gloom
And the 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 job 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 heart 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.
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 heart for so long.

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