| Well, you wake up in the morning, hear the dingdong ring, | |
| Ya go marchin' to the table, ya see the same old things, | |
| All on one table, knife, a fork and a pan, | |
| And it ya say a thing about it, you're in trouble with the man. | |
| Chorus: | |
| Oh, let the Midnight Special shine her light on me, | |
| Let the Midnight Special shine her ever-lovin' light on me. | |
| Oh, if you ever go to Houston, oh, man, ya better walk right, | |
| Ya better not stagger, Lord knows, you'd better not fight. | |
| Sheriff he'll arrest you, he'll carry ya down, | |
| And if the jury finds ya guilty, you're penitentiary boun'. | |
| (Chorus) | |
| "O yonder comes Miss Rosie!" "How in the world do ya know?" | |
| "Well, I knowed her by her apron and the dress she wore, | |
| Umbrella on her shoulder, a piece of paper in her han'. | |
| She goes a-walkin' to the captain, said, 'Turn loose my man!'" | |
| (Chorus) | |
| Well, I'm goin'-a leave you, and my time ain't long, | |
| I'll be done wi' my grievin' and my great long song. | |
| (Chorus) |
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