Lyrics

When brown eyes smoulder ‘neath a chalk-white brim
And a broken nose bends towards a knowing grin
And slim hips are swaying to a shuffle rhythm, now… that’d be Hank

When you smell a trace of gun smoke on the Hunter’s Moon
And the scent of bourbon whisky in a darkened room
With a stage-door Jenny soaked in sweet perfume, well… that’d be Hank

With 3 chords and the truth, he’ll haunt your heart
As Harlan said, he put words together that will not come apart
In 6 short years he set the bar, and no matter where you are
Tonight a Hank song’s ringing out on the nearest steel guitar

When you hear the lonesome call of the whippoorwill
Or a fiddle’s whine at a roadhouse grill
Slap a twenty-dollar tip on a two-bit bill and… that’d be Hank…

When brown eyes smoulder ‘neath a chalk-white brim
And a broken nose bends towards a knowing grin
And slim hips are swaying to a shuffle rhythm, now… that’d be Hank
When all heads turn at the sight of him… that’d be Hank
Makes a stranger feel like he’s next-of-kin…
that’d be Hank, that’d be Hank, that’d be Hank, that’d be Hank!