Luyện nghe bài hát Coot Marseilles Blues

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

Coot Marseilles was an old man
From Mississippi way
He worked out in the white yard
And he loved to and play

Ol' Coot worked hard, God his soul
He was much to roam
His band was an old guitar
A cigarette and a comb

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

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

Now on Saturdays ol' Coot didn't much
he built a fire in the stove
And when he get he'd mosey on down
And sit by the road

He'd hum that as he walked along
With the faraway look in his
And he sit by the road all day
Watched them Ford cars go by

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

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

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

His songs all about the working man
And Coot never a tie
The only he ever really had to do
Was die

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

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

Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord
Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord