The bar room was noisy When Bobbie Jo sat down, Her stage was like a postage stamp Her eyes creased in a frown.
Her T shirt was faded Her jeans full of holes But her face had a beauty Neither young nor old.
She slung the strap of her guitar Behind her slender neck, Six silver strings to strum Six Silken Strings to pluck.
The instrument was battered In need of some repair But the damage was cosmetic The music *lived in there.
Her hands were not that beautiful Red tipped, raw *****, and small They looked almost masculine
The first chord was a *drawl.
Hooked up by a chord To an electric amp, She tuned her instrument a bit And put on a clamp.
When she began strumming Live music filled the place The cowboys kept up with their noise But a smile crept 'cross her face.
The chords crept into plucking A Flamenco kind of riff Spanish at its finest
The laughter seemed to drift...
Off into the distance And the familiar chords Of country western "Crazy" Hit the ***** Tonkin' boards...
"I'm crazy for tryin' And crazy for cryin'
I'm crazy for lovin' you..."
Her voice was melodious But it was haunting, too Much like Joni Mitchell But with a country blue.
Then the chords got lively In a folksy slang
"The Night They Drove 'Ol Dixie Down..."
The walls of that place *rang!
Baez could do no better! The music did its thing... Boy! That girl could play that box! Man! That girl could SING !!!
The place was deadly silent When she sang a blue And it was a stompin' When the beat picked up its tune!
It got to be midnight The middle of the night She had taken not one break! The music? OUTA SIGHT !!!
It got to be 2AM She still kept up her strum! And the cowpokes were tired clappin' By the time the night was done.
When it was finally over She picked up her case The owner came over A strange look on his face.
He said to her, "Young lady, You made a helluva night... The best sales here ever And there was not one fight! I want you on here permanent Could you do that, please? I'll give you $500 bucks a night And I'll help you release A country music album You've written your own stuff... I'll help you release it. It's way good enough...
She said, "That's okay my friend, I made $500 there They piled the money in all night It's right inside my jar... So I'd best be goin' The Greyhound leaves at five... I'm headed for Nashville I think I will survive. Just remember me some later on When you hear my songs You can say I played here And the music was real strong."
He gave her a wry smile And he said, "You bet..." He would sure remember How could he forget?
She had to turn some cowboys down When they kinda came on strong She had a big ol' bus to catch So she left alone...
No one ever saw Bobbie Jo again But later on they heard Her bus had an accident. Killed everyone aboard.
But her legend still lives on Where her music rang The cowpokes swear her ghost still plays...
*everywhere she sang.
A looong poem! Thanks for reading it all... for a guitar playing friend...