The Man Who Picked The Wildwood Flower

I only saw five people when they buried Jack Dupree

Two diggers and the preacher the funeral man and me

The prayer 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 every time he saw me standing 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