Slaid Cleaves Follow

Up at Henry’s Bar & Grill
On the north side of town
I saw a man reach up to heaven
And pull a song on down
To a smoke filled room of misfits
Young and old and big and small
And with the laughing eyes of the Buddha
He shared it with us all

And every soul in that roadhouse
Felt the power of his song
Through life’s joys and sorrows
He brought us together as one
They called him “God’s own yodeler,
The Pavarotti of the plains”
There’s no bigger voice in Texas
Don Walser was his name

He was raised out in Lamesa
Just a boy when his mamma died
With daddy at the mill all night
In that empty house he cried
He’d climb up in the oak tree
To sing his broken heart
The neighbors gathered in the yard
Listening in the dark

Singing songs about West Texas
Cowboys and old John Deeres
Rodeos and drive-ins
And the thrill of teenage years
They called him “God’s own yodeler,
The Pavarotti of the plains”
There’s no bigger voice in Texas
Don Walser was his name

From the honky-tonks and dance halls
To the grand ole opery
Don Walser brought a smile
To every fan who came to see
Now it’s oxygen and wheelchairs
And trips to the docs in town
The stays kept getting longer
He knew he was glory bound

My friend, your work is done here
And I’d say you did it well
Your voice rings down from heaven
All the way to the devil himself
And now you’re God’s own yodeler
High above the Texas plains
We miss you here in Austin
With love we speak you name