In the streets, the children screamed,
Lovers cried and the poets dreamed,
Not a word was spoken. The church bells all were broken.

And the three men I admire most,
The father, son and the holy ghost,
They took the last train for the coast the day the music died.


And they were singing, bye-bye Miss American Pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry.

Good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singing,
"This will be the day that I die. This will be the day that I die."



And the three men I admire most,
The father, son and the holy ghost,

They took the last train for the coast the day the music died...