Quiet Renegade

G C7 He sat in the back, sippin’ from a flask, not hearing half of what the preacher said D7 G Dozens of times half the town had given him up for dead G C7 No he wasn’t the town drunk, to tell the truth he was sober much of the time D7 G And he wasn’t no bum, you could see him out there picking up cans just to make a dime G C7 Now, only the old timers recall that he was orphaned, and maybe that's what made him aloof D7 G Dusty police files will tell you that he was a hell raiser in his youth G C7 Rumor has that he once wed a gal from by Takama Bay D7 G And that he developed a taste for whiskey when she packed her bags and went away G A7 C G He a quiet renegade, who everybody knows, but hardly anyone in this old town remembers his name G C7 The folks down at the diner would leave him a little something out back D7 G He could have passed for a hobo if you caught him wandering down around the railroad tracks G C7 He'd nod to all the passers by, but he never said a thing D7 G He'd stay seated in the pew whenever the congregation stood up to sing G C7 Then he didn't stop for a pack of smokes at the corner store like he did nearly every day D7 G His lunch went cold, and they found his dusty hat out along the west highway G C7 His usual park bench was empty every night, this time the town did gave him up for dead D7 G The preacher shed a tear, but no ulogy was ever read G A7 C G He was a quiet renegade, who everybody knew, but hardly anyone here bothered to remember his name G A7 God bless all the quiet renegades, you probably know one well, C G but have you even bothered to stop and ask them their name