With his hands in the wood
And his eyes on the grain
He carves the lines good
And he works through the pain
And he'd never complain

And I play this guitar
With the subtle refrain
In the smoky old bar
For the people in pain
And I'd never complain

CHORUS:
And sometimes the night and the melodies collide
With the wrongs and the right
The truth and the lies
And this old guitar
It sings through the band
And it rings through the dark
Thanks to the touch
Of the woodworker's hand

So I sit down to write
Guitar in my hand
By the warm fire's light
With the boys in the band
And our melody's grand

And he sits down to carve
Mahogany sides
Of another guitar
That will ring through the night
And he makes it just right

CHORUS

It rings through the dark
Thanks to the touch
Of the woodworker's hand


© 2000 Red Cliffs Press Music (BMI)