Man Who Picked The Wildwood Flower

Let me tell you about a song

That was brought to me by a good friend of mine who's a good songwriter

And everytime he brings me a song I'm always willing to listen

But the story and the reasons for writing this song

Were even more interesting to me than the song

The old friend and fella I'm speaking of is Tommy Collins

Tommy told me about an experience he had when he was a minister

Where he was called to preach a funeral for a man with no identity

Tommy said he never forgot the way he felt

Like here is a human being who someone must have loved at sometime

And yet there was no one present to pay respect

Just a couple of grave diggers a funeral man and Tommy

Then the story switched to another thought bout during his last visit to Nashville

He went down to listen to an ole street singer

That he always made a point to go hear each time he was in town

And it was then that Tommy discovered

That Jack Dupree the ole street singer had passed away

And Tommy said he wondered how many were present at Jack's funeral

And it was these two true to life incidents that inspired this song

I only saw five people when they buried Jack Dupree

Two diggers and the preacher the funeral man and me

The pray was said and the hole was filled in less than half an hour

And I said goodbye to the little man who picked the wildwood flower

For twenty years I'd seen him on the lower Nashville streets

They said he always earned enough to buy his clothes and eats

He'd stop awhile and check his watch with the big clock on the tower

That's when I asked him once if he could pick the wildwood flower

He always drew a crowd because he put on such a show

He'd dance and sing and play and smile just like a polished pro

And everytime he saw me standin' in the crowd

I knew the tune that he'd play next would be the wildwood flower

I told him once that he could be what people call a star

And he said why boy I'm happy how many of them folks are

I'd hate to have to force a smile and feel myself turn sour

There ain't no put on in my face when I pick the wildwood flower

Then I saw a thousand people as they begin to come

Business men and opry stars party girls and bums

And on that little mound of clay bouquets begin to shower

As they paid respect to the little man who picked the wildwood flower