The Ballad Of Henry Holloway

Saturday night & the bar-room is howlin' with young weekend cowboys all struttin' and prowlin'
Drinkin' straight bourbon and tryin' not to shiver as it burns down their throat and plays hell with their liver
On a small stage in the bar's farthest corner sits Henry Holloway playin' his guitar
Under the spotlight, sweat on his face glistenin', singin' his heart out and nobody's listenin'

Fire in the belly, fire in the soul; ambition's a fire that's hard to control
Burnin' with bright dreams of money & fame, young Henry Holloway's lost in the flame

Evylin sits by the stage, she's the only one clappin' with eyes brightly shinin', feet in time tappin'
Face full of love as she watchеs her man in his shirt of blue rhinestonеs she sewed on by hand
Sweet red lips movin' as she sings along joinin' with Henry in his every song
Although she's heard them about one million times Love is tone-deaf as well as stone blind

Now the noise in the bar's like a volcano explodin' but up on the stage young Henry's is floatin'
Eyes closed and driftin' through his favourite dream, he sings of places he's never seen
Like Nashville and Memphis, New York & L.A., you can bet even money he'll get there some day
But if he don't, he just might not care 'cause when he sings his songs, he's already there

Saturday night's turned into Sunday mornin', the bar-room is empty, the bartender's yawnin'
Home go the cowboys with their jeans and high boots; come Monday they'll put on their ties and dark suits
Back to the motel go Henry and Evylin she falls asleep with her arms wrapped around him
And dreams of motel rooms & cheap crowded bars Henry lies wide awake and dreams of the stars