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I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died,
They said for the last two weeks that he suffered and cried;
It made a big impression on me, although I was a barefoot kid,
They said he got religion at the end, and I'm glad that he did.
Clayton was the best guitar picker in our town,
I thought he was a hero and I used to follow Clayton around;
I often wondered why Clayton, who seemed so good to me,
Never took his guitar and made it down in Tennessee.
Well, Daddy said he drank a lot, but I could never understand,
I knew he used to pick up in Ohio with a five-piece band;
Clayton used to tell me, son, you better put that old guitar away,
There ain't no money in it, it'll lead you to an early grave.
Well, I guess if I'd admit it, Clayton taught me how to drink booze,
I can see him half-stoned a-pickin' out the lovesick blues;
When Clayton died I made him a promise, I was gonna carry on somehow,
I'd give a hundred dollars if he could only see me now.
I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died,
Nobody ever knew it but I went out in the woods and I cried;
I know there's a lotta big preachers who know a lot more than I do,
But it could be that the good Lord likes a little pickin' too.
Yeah, I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died.
