Most of the favorite memories of my boyhood days in Arkansas
Are scattered around an old wood stove at a place we call John´s
It was just an old tar paper shack

With a pump out front and some junk out back
But inside there was always a hot cup of coffee
And a warm place around the fire for anyone
John pumped gas for a living and he fixed tires on the side
And I guess old John could fix most anything
If you didn´t push it he´d try
And he gave me my first charge account for some gas
And financed my first date
Even fixed my old radio just in case I got lucky
And wanted to park down by the lake
And among the carburetors and the re-built generators
I spent the whole night picking on an old flattop guitar
John would play the fiddle and I´d always sing a little

No there is no place to get filled up the way you could at John´s
John taught me a whole lot about country music because he loved it
We´d sit up and listen to the Grand Ole Opry every Saturday night
Nobody would ever say a word, not even during Martha White
And I was awfully young back then, but still I knew just why
That John closed the shop the whole day
When we heard that Hank had died
There was something else special about ole John
He had a way of making us kids feel important
Simply by giving us a good clean place to hang out
Well I can still hear him saying pumping gas is a fever boys

It´ll get in your blood and it´ll make your face break out in a grin
Just to check old lady Hanson´s oil or to help a stranded friend

And among the carburetors and the re-built generators[x2]