The Ballad Of Conley And Billy (The Proof’s In The Pickin’) Diamond Rio

Screamn' whitewall tires and a guitar by his side
Billy's got the fever as he rolls on thru the night
Some were born to listen, some were born to play
He was lightning on the highstrings and thunder on the bass

He could play it high, he could play it low
He could make it cry, he could make it moan
He knows when push comes to shove
The proof's in the pickin'

In a smoky little tavern just off of Bourbon Street
Tobacco stained fingers waited on the down beat
Conley was the master, the undisputed king
He'd ruled the town for thirty years
With an army of six strings

He could play it high, he could play it low
He could make it cry, he could make it moan
He knows when push comes to shove
The proof's in the pickin'

Sometimes after midnight Billy drives through New Orleans
Straight to the French Quarter there's a man he has to see
The music is a raging like a city that's on fire
Billy felt just like an altar boy at the feet of a higher power
Conley watched as Billy walked across the room
Opened his case and started a tune
The whole club was silent and the lights were turned down low
Billy stepped up on the stage and Conley whispered, "Go son, go"