Way down on Downtown Almond street
There's a man blowin' some waves out in the afternoon heat
By the corner of the Wiggy blues Café, he found his place
He's a sharped dressed man in his black hat
With the trumpet piece in hand
And all the people walkin by are to busy to realize
The people ain't got no time
To feel the flowin' tunes of joyful soul is from a different state of mind
But Trumpet George don't mind, he let's the music take his bones
Knowin' surely that his way of life is adding flavour in between all the mold
Could have been a preacher if his father had his ways
But all the rhythm and the jive
No, he couldn't let it drift away, yeah
"Music is love!" He said. " I heard my mama say!"
And so he grabbed his case, walked out the door, singin' "Trumpet George is my name!"