|
I've been struggling up here, child, trying to make a living |
|
Everybody wants to take, nobody like giving |
|
I wish I was in Memphis back home there with my Mama |
|
The only clothes I got left that ain't rags is my pajamas |
|
No brotherly love, no help, no danger |
|
Just a great big town full of cold hearted strangers |
|
I went hungry in New York and Chicago was no better |
|
But today, my dear mother wrote and told me in her letter |
|
Son, come back to Memphis and live here with your Mama |
|
You can walk down Beale Street, honey, wearing your pajamas |
|
You know home folks here, we let do just what you want to |
|
And I born you and raised you right here on the corner |
|
I'm going to leave here in the morning and walk down to the station |
|
I've got just enough money to pay my transportation |
|
I'm going back to Memphis, back home with my Mama |
|
If I have to ride that bus barefooted in pajamas |
|
Back home in Memphis, no moaning and groaning |
|
I know everything will be all right in the morning |
