In a small smoky barroom,
On a stool in the corner
Sits a man called The Mumbler,
And he's pickin' out a tune..
The room is canyon quiet,
As if his first name was Wyatt..
Quick fingers move like spiders
Dancin' on the moon..

He's been playin' "Wildwood Flower"
Prob'lly strummed for half an hour
Lotta' sweet tones are vibratin'
And the crowd is in a trance..
They're paused at the pool table
You would think he was Clark Gable
Drinkers hold their whiskey jiggers,
And couples stop their dance..

Everybody turns to listen
Bright flashes swirl & glisten
From the pearled and silver inlays..
Of his Gibson guitar..
He is better than Chet Atkins,
When he's done folks wave their napkins
Bein' part deaf makes it hard to hear,
The sound of their applause..

He couldn't sing it, or say it,
But knows how to play it,
Knows how to strum that box
And knows how to chord..
He has a bad speech problem..
When he talks, it's just a mumble,
But he's got great music in him,
Gifted from the Lord..

The Mumbler wisely knows
The secrets of survival
He makes no pleas for sympathy,
Draws from expressions, deep..
Though good luck did reject him,
He's made the world respect him
With two hands and magic fingers,
And a talent to keep..

He smiles and mumbles thank you,
Takes a Stetson filled with dollars
Shoulders the shiny Gibson,
And walks on out the door..
What he treasures, more than money,
Is great soul satisfaction
Down the street there'll be new action,
He'll pick and play some more..

He couldn't sing it, or say it,
But knows how to play it,
Knows how to strum that box
And knows how to chord..
He's got a bad speech problem,
When he talks, it's just a mumble,
But he has great music in him,
Gifted by the Lord..

He has great music in him,
Gifted by the Lord..