Trumpet George

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Years After

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Way down on Downtown Almond street 
There's a man blowin' some waves out in the afternoon heat 
By the corner of the Wiggy blues Café, he found his place 
He's a sharped dressed man in his black hat 
With the trumpet piece in hand 

And all the people walkin by are to busy to realize 
The people ain't got no time 
To feel the flowin' tunes of joyful soul is from a different state of mind 
But Trumpet George don't mind, he let's the music take his bones 
Knowin' surely that his way of life is adding flavour in between all the mold 

Could have been a preacher if his father had his ways 
But all the rhythm and the jive 
No, he couldn't let it drift away, yeah 
"Music is love!" He said. " I heard my mama say!" 
And so he grabbed his case, walked out the door, singin' "Trumpet George is my name!"

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