Sure Hit Songwriter's Pen
I was hanging 'round Nashville writing songs
And playing 'em for all of the stars,
Watchin' 'em laugh and hand 'em back,
Living on hope and Hershey bars.
So, I pawned my guitar and bought a ticket home,
And I's a'headin' for the Trailway bus
When I seen an old fountain pen laying in the gutter,
So I stopped and picked it up.
It was worn-out, bent and cast aside --
Kinda sorta like myself,
So I sat down on the curb and wrote a little song
That told the world how both of us felt.
Then I run that song down to Music Row
And before I had time to spit,
It's pitched and sold and cut for a record
And moving up the charts and, damn, it's a hit!
So I wrote me another winner,
Then I wrote me a smash again,
And I's a'flyin' off the ground,
'Cause I knew I'd found me a sure hit songwriter's pen.
So the songs they just kept a'pourin' out,
And the money kept pouring in.
I just couldn't miss, all it took was a twist
Of my sure hit songwriter's pen.
Remember when I won the Grammy,
Then I won it again and again?
Well, none of you knew it was all due
To my sure hit songwriter's pen.
I was darling with all the ladies.
I was a hero among the men...
Making big dough, working rodeos and TV shows --
Me and my sure hit songwriter's pen.
But then one night in Wichita
I was just coming off of the stage,
Folks all lined up screaming for my autograph...
Lord, I was a national rage.
One little freckled face girl was there, she said,
"I got no pencil, sir."
So I signed it with my songwriter's pen
And then handed the pen back to her!
Four o'clock that morning, I woke up with the shakes and the bends
With terror in my eyes 'cause, good God, I realized
I'd lost my sure hit songwriter's pen.
I offered rewards in the papers
I pleaded on the Sympathy Line,
And a whole lotta folks and a whole lotta pens,
But none of them pen's was mine.
So my songs got worse and my money ran out
And so did all my good-time friends.
And there was no doubt I was nothing without
My long-lost sure hit songwriter's pen.
So I rolled like a stone down to old Skid Row
Where I feed my blues on wine
And I rest my chops in a two-bit flop
And I tell my story for a drink or a dime
And I sleep with my shoes underneath my head
And dream about days back then
When I blazed my name across the sky
With my sure hit songwriter's pen.
Somewhere in Wichita some little girl
Who's a freckled face nine or ten
Is doing her arithmetic homework tonight
With a sure hit songwriter's pen.
And I say, God bless ya, honey
You got yourself a sure hit songwriter's pen there
Write a song for me, baby.
You got a sure hit songwriter's pen.
Send me some money.
You got a sure hit songwriter's pen.
Autor(es): SHEL SILVERSTEIN