Gather 'round cats and I'll tell you a story
'Bout how to become an all-American Boy.
Just buy you a guitar and put it in tune
And you'll be a rockin and a rollin soon.
Impressin the girls, hittin hot licks, and all that jazz.
I bought me a guitar about a year ago and I
Learned how to play it in a day or so.
And all around town it was well understood
That I was knocking 'em out like Johnny B. Goode.
Hot licks, showing off, ah, number one.
Well I practiced all day and up into the night,
My papa's hair was a gettin kinda white.
He didn't dig that, ah, rock and roll.
He said, "You can stay boy, but that's gotta go."
He's a square; just didn't dig me at all.
So I packed my guitar, picks and all, bid farewell to my poor old pa.
I split for Memphis where they say 'you all'
And them swinging cats are a havin a ball.
Yeah, they love me down there, guitar picks and all.
I was rocking and bopping and getting all the breaks,
And the girls all said that I had what it takes,
When up steps a man with a big cigar. He said. "Come here, kid.
I'm gonna make you a star."
Put you on "Bandstand', buy you a cadillac. Sign here, kid."
So I signed my name and became a star, having a ball with my guitar.
Driving a big, long cadillac. And fighting the girls off'n my back.
But they just keep a comin, screaming, they love it.
So I picked my guitar with a great big grin
And the money just kept on rollin in.
And then one day my Uncle Sam said (thump, thump, thump) "here I am!
Uncle Sam needs you, boy. Gonna cut your hair off, Gimme that guitar, Take this rifle. Yeahhhh