He was born the seventh son
The seventh day of july
He was 1970s driven under the southern sky
And though he did survive
Well his mama she died
Underneath the moon and the howling wind he cries
Ooo ooo
Ooo ooo
Oooo ooo
Ooo oo
Now name is in a band (?)
He don't know bad from his good
He carved himself a six string
From some pine in the woods
His howls became screams
Taught himself how to sing
And made his way from abberlee
Way down to New Orleans
Ooo ooo
Ooo ooo
Ooo ooo
Oooo oo
Now he made himself a home
Under a big red door
Down below the docks
Amongst the beggars and whores
But when he would sing
People couldn't do no thing
But listen to the rythym of his pine six string
A crowd of people gathered round
Their jaws on the ground
Who was this young boy just sleepin on the ground
But when he would sing
People couldn't do no thing
But listen to the rythym on his pine six string
And now no ooo oo
Ooo ooo
Oh oo oo ooo ooo
Ah ba buh boo
Bah duh bah do bah duh boo
Bah duh bah doo bwah
Ooo
I'm a simple kind of man
Don't need your diamonds and gold
If money is your worry
You better lighten your load
Just give me six strings
And a big open road
And I'll tell you how to be free