In a little cabaret, in a South Texas border town, lived a boy and his guitar, and the people came from miles around, and all the girls, from there to Austin, were slippin' away from home and puttin' jewelry in hock to take the trip, to come out and listen, to the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flattop boxin' he would play. Well, he never learned to write, and he never cared to make a dime, but give him his guitar, and he'd be happy all the time, and all the girls, from nine to ninety, were snappin' fingers, tappin' toes, and beggin' him, don't stoppin' every time, and fascinated, by the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flattop boxin' he would play. Now, one day he was gone, and they never saw him hangin' round, he vanished like the breeze, they forgot him in the little town, but all the girls, still dreamed about him, and hung around the cavalry, till all the doors were locked, and then one day, on the hit parade, was the little dark-haired boy that played the Tennessee flattop boxin' he would play. the Tennessee flattop boxin' he would play.