Lyrics

The hands make the craftsman, and Scruggs’ were no exception
D
His banjo picking settled on my mind

I saw the sunlight glimmer
G
Off his silver-pick-tipped fingers
A D
Learned his way, then crafted mine.
C G
Teaching my hands to do what I hear in my head
D G
Not just think it, play it instead
C D
Want to come alive?
E
Let your fingers untangle your mind
A
I said
D G
Teaching my hands to do what I hear in my head

When I wasn’t picking five-string, I was bowing on the fiddle
Like I know Ed Haley’d done
I taught my feet to tap
And I had the people clap
Along to have more big fiddle fun (Cause we’re)

If there comes a day when my hands no longer play
I’ll wish we had our time again
My pickin’ friends will come
And I’ll watch and sing along
Thinking back to all the good years when (I was)