Text: John Hiatt. Rock Back Billy.

Get a load of that guy

With the dew rag on

And the cowboy tie

Man that cat is gone



Form Memphis to Nashville

Then way out west

Put that Hollywood party

To the acid test



Got a little bungalow

In the valley somewhere

Took a gig playing bass

With Sonny and Cher

He took it on his chin

And never got it off his chest

He wouldn't be caught dead wearing that vest



Not rock back Billy

Rock back Billy



He came to make a stew

With that swamp guitar

He kept it lonesome and blue

Yeah, in the trunk of his car



But no one gave him a long shot

Though he never did doubt

What it was not

Or what it was all about



He got all tangled up with liquor and drugs

Trying to make a racket

Like those English mugs



Till he couldn't get arrested

And he couldn't see straight

He couldn't even shine shoes

In that Golden State



Not rock back Billy

Come on rock back Billy



When you see him on the street

Well, he's no spring chicken

But ask him how he makes ends meet

He'll tell you, "I'm still pickin'"



Aw, rock it, Billy, rock it



Yeah they counted him down

When they dropped that beat

But that red hot sound

They could not defeat



It started coming back from Boston

From East L.A.

Down in Austin, Texas

And up New York way



And as long as there's a kid

In a room somewhere

With a beat up guitar

And some funny looking hair

Well, it might be Billy's kid

You don't know

And all I've got to say is

Go, cat, go



Come on rock back Billy

Come on rock back Billy

Rock back Billy