As a teen a rock star is what I dreamed to be.
Not a lick could I play, air guitar was for me.
Well things have changed, I'm quite the wiser
I found something better than a pill tranquilizer.

It comes in a case, it's red and it's groovy.
I'm addicted to it more than my soap opera movie.
It has six strings, and it's sharp as a tack.
Light as a feather means no strain on my back.

Okay, I admit, I was helping my son.
That's what I keep telling myself - I knew it would be fun.
He desired a new drum set and tuition was due
So I told him "I'll buy the guitar and amp from you".

I wheeled and I dealed to get the price down.
Not once did he flinch, nor smile, not frown.
He said, "momma this is what it will be
My Fender Telecaster and the amp - for this fee".

I reminded him of stories way back in the past.
Twelve hours of labor, the games, his growing so fast.
There still was no movement in his bright, shiny eyes.
Not until I gave him this great big surprise.

I said this is what I am going to do
I'll buy that guitar and the amp from you.
However, a few conditions are in order.
Teach me the notes, eighth, sixteenth, whole and quarter.

He agreed and he smiled, the transaction was good.
I examined the bright shiny red pretty wood.
It matters not that I play like a louse.
What matters is this house is alive with granny rocking the house.

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