John's

Most of the favorite memories of my boyhood days in Arkansas
Are scattered around an old wood stove at a place we call John's
It was just an old tar paper shack
With a pump out front and some junk out back
But inside, there was always a hot cup of coffee
And a warm place around the fire for anyone

John pumped gas for a living and he fixed tires on the side
And I guess old John could fix most anything
If you didn't push it, he'd try
And he gave me my first charge account for some gas
And financed my first date
Even fixed my old radio just in case I got lucky
And wanted to park down by the lake

And among the carburetors and the re-built generators
I spent the whole night picking on an old flattop guitar
John would play the fiddle and I'd always sing a little
No, there ain't no place to get filled up the way you could at John's

John taught me a whole lot about country music because he loved it
We'd sit up and listen to the Grand Ole Opry every Saturday night
Nobody would ever say a word, not even during Martha White
And I was awfully young back then, but still I knew just why
That John closed the shop the whole day
When we heard that Hank had died

There was something else special about ole John
He had a way of making us kids feel important
Simply by giving us a good clean place to hang out
Well I can still hear him saying, "Pumping gas is a fever boys
It'll get in your blood and it'll make your face break out in a grin"
Just to check old lady Hanson's oil or to help a stranded friend

And among the carburetors and the re-built generators
I spent the whole night picking on an old flattop guitar
John would play the fiddle and I'd always sing a little
No, there ain't no place to get filled up the way you could at John's

And among the carburetors and the re-built generators
I spent the whole night picking on an old flattop guitar
John would play the fiddle and I'd always sing a little
No, there ain't no place to get filled up the way you could at John's