Merle Haggard - The Man Who Picked the Wildwood Flower lyrics

Let me tell you about a song That was brought to me by a good friend of mine who's a good songwriter And everytime he brings me a song I'm always willing to listen But the story and the reasons for writing this song Were even more interesting to me than the song The old friend and fella I'm speaking of is Tommy Collins Tommy told me about an experience he had when he was a minister Where he was called to preach a funeral for a man with no identity Tommy said he never forgot the way he felt Like here is a human being who someone must have loved at sometime And yet there was no one present to pay respect Just a couple of grave diggers a funeral man and Tommy Then the story switched to another thought bout during his last visit to Nashville He went down to listen to an ole street singer That he always made a point to go hear each time he was in town And it was then that Tommy discovered That Jack Dupree the ole street singer had pa**ed away And Tommy said he wondered how many were present at Jack's funeral And it was these two true to life incidents that inspired this song I only saw five people when they buried Jack Dupree Two diggers and the preacher, the funeral man and me The pray was said and the hole was filled in less than half an hour And I said goodbye to the little man who picked the wildwood flower For twenty years I'd seen him on the lower Nashville streets They said he always earned enough to buy his clothes and eats He'd stop awhile and check his watch with the big clock on the tower That's when I asked him once if he could pick the wildwood flower He always drew a crowd because he put on such a show He'd dance and sing and play and smile just like a polished pro And everytime he saw me standin' in the crowd I knew the tune that he'd play next would be the wildwood flower I told him once that he could be what people call a star And he said, "Why boy, I'm happy how many of them folks are" I'd hate to have to force a smile and feel myself turn sour There ain't no put on in my face when I pick the wildwood flower Then I saw a thousand people as they begin to come Business men and opry stars party girls and bums And on that little mound of clay bouquets begin to shower As they paid respect to the little man who picked the wildwood flower