[Intro: fingerpicked acoustic guitar, low cello] [Verse 1] Her mama took the Denver job the April she turned seven Left a list taped on the fridge, swim on Thursdays, church at eleven I could frame a wall by lunch and hang a door by three But I took a brush to all those curls, and she screamed and ran from me [Verse 2] So I watched a lady on my phone at one o'clock at night Sectioning and twisting, saying go slow, get it right Practiced on a mop head out in the garage till four With the hands that hung a thousand doors and never shook before [Chorus] Wide-tooth comb and a spray bottle Sunday night on the bathroom floor She sits between my knees and hollers And I say, baby, just a little more Start at the ends and work your way up Never yank and never rush Hold it like it's hers, not yours Start at the ends and work your way up [Verse 3] The first cornrows I ever did ran crooked as a creek She wore 'em to the picture day and smiled with half her teeth Some mama at the pickup asked me, honey, who did those And my girl said, my daddy did, like everybody knows [Chorus] Wide-tooth comb and a spray bottle Sunday night on the bathroom floor She sits between my knees and hollers And I say, baby, just a little more Start at the ends and work your way up Never yank and never rush Hold it like it's hers, not yours Start at the ends and work your way up [Bridge: band drops to guitar and voice] Some nights she cried for Denver and I couldn't make it stop So I worked the knots out slow, from the bottom to the top Some hurts won't comb out, darling, you just sit there while they ache Start at the ends, go slow, and stay as long as it takes [Verse 4: full band returns, gentle] Now she's grown and down in Austin with a daughter of her own Sunday night she calls me, Daddy, she won't sit, she bit the comb I said wet it, then the leave-in, put a cartoon on the screen She said, I know, I know, I just wanted you to talk to me I hung up and sat out in the truck with the engine off a while Two hands on the wheel that used to shake, and both of them were still [Final Chorus] Wide-tooth comb in a drawer in Austin Sunday night on a different floor Little girl between her knees, hollering And she's saying, baby, just a little more Start at the ends and work your way up Never yank and never rush Hold it like it's hers, not yours Start at the ends and work your way up [Outro: guitar alone, voice soft] Start at the ends
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