He worked from morning to 10 at night, sometimes 3 A.M
Fixing guitars for a living, honing and polishing frets
Perfecting the intonation and setting the action good
Carving saddles from ox bone, bridges from Brazilian wood

He fixed my old Gibson L-00
He reset the neck, used a patch of Bondo
Near the soundhole where the wood worn away
From 80 years of age and hard play

Sometimes he'd leave without warning and just close up shop
No sign, no message, no call, no nothing, he'd just stop
Coming to work and picking up the telephone
I left more than a few messages for him after the tone

All summer he wouldn't return my calls
"Hey, Richard, I'd like my guitar back by fall
Got a record to make and a promise to bring
The tour in England, a smile to feign."

September or maybe October he called and said it was done
I got in the taxi, got my guitar and man that thing sung
Like a choir of angels and the neck it felt great
And that was the last time I saw him, late 2008

Why Richard Collopy, why Richard, why?
Did you have to go off with the birds in the sky
You were the best guitar guy out west
I cherished your work and wish you the best
Why Richard Collopy, why oh why?
Did you have to lie down and close your eyes?
Close down your shop and not say goodbye
I'll own this guitar for the rest of my life
I'll play this guitar for the rest of my life

Why Richard Collopy, why Richard, why?
Why Richard Collopy, why Richard, why?
Why Richard Collopy, why Richard, why?
Why Richard Collopy, why Richard, why?