| Stuck it on a slab of ash, |
| Sold one to Luther, threw in a pick, |
| Sent him out with Johnny Cash. |
| Now, could Leo Fender and the gang have known |
| At the factory in Fullerton? |
| That the honky twang of the Telecaster tone |
| Would outlast 'em, every one. |
| It’s got a plush-lined case, |
| It’s all up in your face, |
| It’s your thunderin' lightning rod — |
| It was born at the junction of form and function — |
| It’s the hammer of the honky-tonk gods, |
| It’s the hammer of the honky-tonk gods! |
| You got Buck and Don, Merle and Roy, |
| Muddy and the Iceman, too, |
| Bryant, Bert, Roy, Danny, and Redd, |
| Why, that’s Redd with two 'D's to you. |
| Well, there’s Waylon and Keith, |
| 'Bout off th' top of my head, |
| Chrissie, Cropper and the Boss, |
| Why, if Johnny B Goode had one, he would |
| Up in the St. Louis Telecaster, hoss. |
| You’ve (She's) got your (a) plush-lined case, |
| An' all (All) up in your face, |
| She’s your (ya) thunderin' lightning rod — |
| (Well it was) Born at the junction of form and function — |
| It’s the ('e) hammer of the honky-tonk gods, |
| It’s the hammer of the honky-tonk gods! |
| Stuck it on a slab of ash, |
| Sold one to Luther, threw in a pick, |