Down the drain pipe cross the yard and through the fence
I risked a whoopin' every time I went
'Cause white boys weren't allowed
On the colored side of town
But I was proud to call
That old black man my friend
He had a pillow by the bed he used to pray on
And a beat up old guitar he let me play on
I knew where my fingers went
From his greasy fingerprints
Yeah, he was passin' on
What was handed down to him

(Chorus:)
And it soaked up all the blood and sweat and teardrops
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And the beers he missed in smokey little bars
And sometimes that old man he comes alive in my hands
I feel the beating of his sad old broken heart
Just like there's a ghost in this guitar
A ghost in this guitar

Well, the night before he died he made me take it
He said, "You play it now, 'cause I gotta go"
And I can feel him in my fingers when I play it
'Cause sometimes I'm in control
And sometimes I just sit back
And let him go
Sit back and let him go

(Chorus)

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