Man sits on the porch and taps his feet Strikes his old string box in the sultry heat Like a million times before he kicks the red dust from the floor. Well he scuffs the wood and his fingers pick up pace He stretches out and scowls with each new phrase Like a million times before he holds her close until the dawn. Come on, play her in the evening long and loud Rest her in the morning when she's down Play her when good comrades come around She's a fading sound. Shrill as the wind the fiddle makes her cry With a flurrish and a fable in the night Like a million times before we can see her figure soar. Come on, play her in the evening long and loud Rest her in the morning when she's down Play her when good comrades come around She's a fading sound. The single tone of reeds it fills the air These shaking, sharpening lips they do declare Like a melody before as those notes begin to roar. Come on, play her in the evening long and loud Rest her in the morning when she's down Play her when good comrades come around She's a fading sound.