With his hands in the wood And his eyes on the grain He carves the lines good And he works through the pain And he'd never complain And I play this guitar With the subtle refrain In the smoky old bar For the people in pain And I'd never complain CHORUS: And sometimes the night and the melodies collide With the wrongs and the right The truth and the lies And this old guitar It sings through the band And it rings through the dark Thanks to the touch Of the woodworker's hand So I sit down to write Guitar in my hand By the warm fire's light With the boys in the band And our melody's grand And he sits down to carve Mahogany sides Of another guitar That will ring through the night And he makes it just right CHORUS It rings through the dark Thanks to the touch Of the woodworker's hand