It was November the 1st back in 1989 I opened a show for a bona fide hero of mine Ever since I was a kid I bought everything he did I learned every lick and every line And that honky tonk hero became a friend of mine He said you can't sing the blues if you never seen a cloudy day If you ain't made the trip, then you sure can't show the way You pay your fines and your dues and learn you learn a thing or two You get bruised along the way And life's too short to hang with cats that just can't play Old Hoss, the night I heard you were gone I stayed up and drank I played your records all night long He said you can't write a song or love in a committee of three And great tunes ain't made by the guys in the t-i-e Oh man he threw away control when he sang down in his soul His words and his music set me free Great tunes ain't made by the guys in the t-i-e Old Hoss... There's precious few left singing those outlaw blues And we never had a choice, if we did well, we mighta refused Ah for better or for worse it's a blessing or a curse You pick up that old guitar The music ain't what ya do son It becomes what you are Old Hoss...