| Daddy Frank played the guitar and the French harp |
| Sister played the ringing tambourine |
| Mama couldn’t hear our pretty music |
| She read our lips and helped the family sing |
| That little band was all a part of living |
| And our only means of living at the time |
| And it wasn’t like no normal family combo |
| 'Cause daddy Frank the guitar man was blind |
| Frank and mama counted on each other |
| Their one and only weakness made them strong |
| Mama did the driving for the family |
| And Frank made a living with a song |
| Home was just a camp along the highway |
| A pick-up bed was where we bedded down |
| Don’t ever once remember going hungry |
| But I remember mama cooking on the ground |
| Don’t remember how they got acquainted |
| I can’t recall just how it came to be |
| There had to be some special help from someone |
| And blessed be the one that let it be |
| Fever caused my mama’s loss of hearing |
| Daddy Frank was born without his sight |
| And mama needed someone she could lean on |
| And I believe the guitar man was right |
| Daddy Frank played the guitar and the French harp |
| Sister played the ringing tambourine |
| Mama couldn’t hear our pretty music |
| She read our lips and helped the family sing |