DOWN ON ELMIRA STREET –

© by Gregory S. Marsh

 

Intro: C#m B A E

E                                                 A                  E                                                             B

From the Maryland countryside came a young man; on his back he wore leather; in his hand, a beer can

E               A                B              E           B                     C#m         A         E

He was one of the best fixin’ up some old car, but no one was his equal at playin’ guitar

In the clubs of D.C., you could hear his sweet sound. When he played, other pickers would gather around

And watch, in amazement, as his hands worked the strings,

For they knew they could never play half of those things

B                                          A       E               B       C#m               D              E

CHORUS:       All you pickers of guitars, put your axes away, for the finest among you no longer will play

A               E

Down on Elmira Street, cruisin’ deuces roll on,

C#m           B                 A            E

But there’s no redneck jazz; Danny Gatton is gone

 

He should have been famous, like a Clapton or Page; a real guitar hero, on a stadium stage

But the rock star lifestyle simply wasn’t his way; near his farm and his family he wanted to stay

On his gold Telecaster, he could play anything; he could bring you to tears just bending one string.

He could lift up your spirits, cut straight to your soul, with his gut-busting blues and his sweet rock and roll.

CHORUS

LEAD BREAK (ONE VERSE)

I find myself wondering what manner of strife could cause such a musician to take his own life,

And I don’t know the answer, but it’s strange and it’s sad that a man with such talent could be feeling that bad

Say a prayer for his widow and his daughter and friends;

Pray that nobody’s loved ones ever come to such ends.

And treasure the pleasure his memory gives; the man may be silenced, but his music still lives

CHORUS (repeat last line and slow down to end)