Luyện nghe bài hát Coot Marseilles Blues

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

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

Ol' worked hard, God rest his soul
He never was much to
His entire was an old guitar
A cigarette and a comb

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

His were made up 'o dry bones
pain and sweat and tears
And 'Lordy Lordy Lordy'
Was all you'd hear

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

He'd hum song as he walked along
the faraway look in his eyes
And he sit by the road all day
Watched fine Ford cars go by

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

Now Coot didn't care for lyrics
He made 'em up as he went along
And Lord I wish they had a tape then
'Cause I'd love to hear them song

Well his clothes old and his hair was gray
And work had bent his back
His were never recognized
By or flags

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

Now ol' Coot's gone and maybe I'm
To bring it all back
But I know his down in Mississippi
Sure a lot of him

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

Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord
Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord