I sang it once at one of the hoots.

Write Me a Song, Woody

[D]I am a poor man or [G]maybe I’m [D]not
[D]Maybe I’m a woman whose [A7]husband’s been [D]shot
In a war that didn’t matter this way or that
Or maybe I’m a baby born after the fact

Maybe I’m old or maybe I’m green
Maybe I’m something nobody’s ever seen
Mixed on a palette of a billion hues
And I need a song to help me get through

(Chorus)
Write me a song, Woody, write me a song
Write me a song and I’ll sure sing along
Make it about living or dying today
Just write me a song that helps me on my way

I don’t care about the tune or the key
I know you borrowed those occasionally
Tell them how I died or tell ’em how I lived
Just tell them the truth like you always did

(Chorus)

When you left Oklahoma in a dust bowl storm
All over this nation a movement was born
Millions of songs for the common man
And you’re still out there just blowin’ in the wind

So—

(Chorus)


--Dan