I can play three chords on this home made guitar,
Sounds just like Van Morison in his better days,
And if you could stop me, you would have already,
'cos jealousy is obviously killing you,
But I'm not here to finish what Paul Simon started,
And I'm not here to out do the Rolling Stones,
I just play the same three chords that my Mama showed me,
On a ukulele when I was a little boy back at home,
Elvis broke down in tears when he heard me sing the blues,
On a cold and gray Chicago morn back in '72
And all those brown eyed girls, they broke down too,
At least that's my story and that's the story I'm sticking to.