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Well you wake up in the morning. |
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Hear the ding dong ring, |
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You go a-marching to the table, |
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See the same damn thing; |
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Well, it's on a one table, |
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Knife, a fork and a pan, |
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And if you say anything about it, |
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You're in trouble with the man. |
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cho: Let the midnight special |
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Shine her light on me; |
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Let the midnight special |
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Shine her ever-loving light on me. |
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If you ever go to Houston. |
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You better walk right; |
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You better not stagger, |
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You better not fight; |
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Sheriff Benson will arrest you, |
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He'll carry you down, |
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And if the jury finds you guilty, |
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Penitentiary bound. |
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Yonder come little Rosie, |
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How in the world do you know, |
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l can tell her by her apron, |
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And the dress she wore. |
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Umbrella on her shoulder, |
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Piece of paper in her hand, |
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She goes a-marching to the captain, |
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Says, "I want my man." |
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"I don' believe that Rosie loves me" |
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"Well tell me why" |
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She ain't been to see me |
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Since las' July. |
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She brought me little coffee |
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She brought me little tea |
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Brought me damn near ever'thing |
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But the jailhouse key. |
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Yonder comes Doctor Adams |
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"How in the world do you know?" |
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Well he gave me a tablet |
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The day befo' |
|
There ain't no doctor |
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In all the lan' |
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Can cure the fever |
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Of a convict man. |
