About five years ago
I didn't have a cent
So looking for a job
To the music man I went

The manager, he said
This band has got to roll
So climb aboard with me
And hand over your soul

And so it's picking, picking hard
As long as you can stand
Picking all the day
Working for the music man


The band begin to roll
And I lit up a smoke
While thinking to myself
That this job was just a joke

But then I heard a yell
"Put on your boots, my son
Get off that dirty floor
And make that guitar hum. "


And so it's picking, picking hard
As long as you can stand
Picking all the day
Working for the music man


So everywhere we went
And tired as I could be
I soon made up my mind
That this life was not for me
But then I heard a shout
"You're hired for the run
So get back up in here
And make that guitar hum. "


And so it's picking, picking hard
As long as you can stand
Picking all the day
Working for the music man


Now, listen to my song
You men who play for fun
Keep clear of music men
They'll take you for a run

The picking life is tough
You'd better stop it quick
It'll leave you where you started
You're better off to quit


Or else it's picking, picking hard
As long as you can stand
Picking all the day
Working for the music man
(And I still don't even have a cent)