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Clive Gregson
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White Suit of Notes
There was driving and drinking, carousing and driving,
Singing and dancing, then driving some more,
There were late nights and long days
when the road ran ferever,
And we worked every job, but we always stayed poor...
So when honky tonk heaven is filied up with fiddlers,
Steel guitars and singers with lumps in their throats,
May there always be room at the top of the table,
For an old Drifting Cowboy in a white suit of notes...
There were dance halls and juke joints, biscuits and gravy,
Barflies, Birmingham, beurbon and beer,
There were card games and women, of both we lost plenty,
There were good times and bad times, laughter and tears...
So when honky tonk heaven is flled up with fiddlers,
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Steel guitars and singers with lumps in their throats,
May there always be room at the top of the table,
For an old Drifting Cowboy in a white suit of notes...
Between fishing and fooling and falling down helpless,
Pills to keep you wide eyed and pills to make you sleep,
Well some of us made it and some of us didn't,
When you ask was it worth it, I break down and weep...
So when honky tonk heaven is filled up with fiddlers,
Steel guitars and singers with lumps in their throats,
May there always be room at the top of the table,
For an old Driftfng Cowboy in a white suit of notes,
May there always be room at the top of the table,
For an old Drifting Cowboy in a white suit of notes...
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