Poverty-stricken but still I'm a-stickin'
To the things I know to be facts
One day it's feathers and the next day chicken
While I'm pickin' my yakety axe
Everybody says that I never will get far
Keepin' out of work by pickin' this guitar
Livin' on a shoestring, puttin' off things
Like a shave and a haircut
Money don't matter as long as I scatter
A little bit of happiness around
If people keep a-grinnin', I figure I'm a-winnin'
With my good old yakety sound
City folks go around turnin' up their noses
And countin' their greenbacks and smellin' their roses
But I wouldn't trade my yakety axe
Even for a T-bone
I'm confessin', I never took a lesson
All my notes are a matter of guessin'
Hopin' they'll come out in some kind of manner
That'll make the yakety sound
So, if you're in the mood and your feet start tappin'
And you feel laid back and your hands start clappin'
Then I'll have done what I wanted to from way back
You're diggin' my yakety axe, now, a-pick!
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