Luyện nghe bài hát Coot Marseilles Blues

{This story was told to me by Clover
At the 1971 Jockey Convention
I told Jerry I's write a song about it
My brother Hillman gonna play 'The Cigarette And The Comb'
it}

Coot was an old black man
down Mississippi way
He worked out in the man's yard
And he to sing and play

Ol' Coot worked hard, God rest his
He never was much to
His entire band was an old
A paper and a comb

Now ol' had one song
That he would when his long days were put in
There ain't nobody knows that now
'Cause I that it died with him

His songs were up 'o dry bones
From and sweat and tears
And Lordy Lordy Lordy'
Was sometimes all you'd

Now on Saturdays ol' Coot work much
'Cepten he a fire in the stove
And he get through he'd mosey on down
And sit by the road

He'd hum that song as he along
With the faraway in his eyes
And he sit by the road all day
them fine Ford cars go by

Now on Saturday the white folks danced
And ol' Coot he'd pick and
He had an old RC bottle
That he'd slide up and them strings

Now Coot didn't care much for
He just made 'em up as he went
And Lord I they had a tape back then
'Cause I'd sure love to hear them

Well his clothes old and his hair was gray
And hard work had his back
His songs were recognized
By or flags

His were all about the working man
And Coot owned a tie
The thing he ever really had to do
Was die

Now ol' Coot's gone and I'm wrong
To bring it all back
But I his friends down in Mississippi
thought a lot of him

So rock on Coot and your rest
Your long day's is done
And if got Fords up in Heaven, sir
I sure you're driving one

Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord
Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord