Well, I heard the hoot owl
singing
As they were taking down the
tents
The stars above the barren
trees
Were his only audience
Them charcoal gypsy maidens
Can strut their feathers well
But nobody can sing the blues
Like Blind Willie McTell
See them big plantations burning
Hear the cracking of the whips
Smell that sweet magnolia
blooming
(And) see the ghosts of slavery
ships
I can hear them tribes a-moaning
(I can) hear the undertaker's
bell
(Yeah), nobody can sing the
blues
Like Blind Willie McTell
There's a woman by the river
With some fine young handsome
man
He's dressed up like a squire
Bootlegged whiskey in his
hand
There's a chain gang on the
highway
I can hear them rebels yell
And I know no one can sing
the blues
Like Blind Willie McTell
Well, God is in heaven
And we all want what's his
But power and greed and corruptible
seed
Seem to be all that there
is
I'm gazing out the window
Of the St. James Hotel
And I know no one can sing
the blues
Like Blind Willie McTell
Marco Giunco |
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