About the Song

Gather ’round, friends, and let your ears settle in for a story spun of steel guitar strings and weathered boots. We’re headed back to a time when honky-tonk pianos echoed in dusty saloons, and a man with a voice as smooth as Texas whiskey named George Strait took hold of our hearts with a song called “Troubadour.”

This ain’t your pop-country ditty, mind you. No, “Troubadour” is a slow-burnin’ ballad, seasoned with the grit of life on the road and the wisdom etched by time. Strait, a king of the genre himself, steps into the shoes of a wandering storyteller, a modern-day minstrel weaving tales of love, loss, and the open highway.

The opening notes shimmer like desert mirages, beckoning you closer. Strait’s voice, as familiar as a pair of worn-out jeans, dips and soars, painting pictures with every verse. We see dusty towns painted with neon signs, smoky bars filled with whispered secrets, and lonely highways stretching towards an uncertain horizon.

“Troubadour” ain’t just a song, it’s a journey. We ride shotgun with the narrator, feel the wind whip through our hair as he chases the next gig, the next story. We share his heartache, his longing for home that tugs at his heart like a stubborn weed. But through it all, there’s a quiet resilience, a steely determination that echoes the spirit of the American West.

This ain’t just a song for the young pups with their boots still shined bright. “Troubadour” speaks to the folks who’ve seen a few sunsets, who’ve known the sting of goodbye and the joy of unexpected reunions. It’s a song for the weathered hands that grasp a steering wheel, for the calloused hearts that still beat a little faster for the rhythm of a train.

So, pour yourself a glass of somethin’ strong, dim the lights, and let “Troubadour” wash over you. Let it carry you back to simpler times, to dusty roads and starlit nights. Let it remind you of the stories that bind us, the loves we hold dear, and the wanderlust that whispers in our souls. Because in the end, that’s what “Troubadour” is all about – the stories we share, the journeys we take, and the enduring spirit that keeps us movin’ on.

Now, press play and let George Strait be your guide. This is the troubadour’s tale, and you’re invited to listen.

Video

Lyrics

🎵 Let’s sing along with the lyrics! 🎤

I still feel twenty five
Most of the time
I still raise a little cain with the boys
Honky Tonks and pretty women
Lord I’m still right there with them
Singing above the crowd and the noise

Sometimes I feel like Jesse James
Still trying to make a name
Knowing nothings gonna change what I am
I was a young troubadour
When I rode in on a song
And I’ll be an old troubadour
When I’m gone

Well, the truth about a mirror
It’s that a damn old mirror
Don’t really tell the whole truth
It don’t show what’s deep inside
Oh read between the lines
It’s really no reflection of my youth

Sometimes I feel like Jesse James
Still trying to make a name
Knowing nothings gonna change what I am
I was a young troubadour
When I rode in on a song
And I’ll be an old troubadour
When I’m gone

I was a young troubadour
When I rode in on a song
And I’ll be an old troubadour
When I’m gone

I’ll be an old troubadour
When I’m gone

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