Bluesman*

Old black bluesman

Never fretting with the frets

Hoarse hollow bellow

Cigarette ash

Tumbling into the strings

Blood and guts forty five

Upside his baby’s head

But he wouldna

Done it ‘cept for the whiskey

And here comes the first line again.

 

Teeth camel stained

Lips chapped

Almost blue

Moanin’ in the wee mornin’ hours

 

Linoleum platform

Bad lighting,

Sparse tables

Surly waitress

Watered drinks

 

Still he be

Lost in the playin’

Lost in the singin’

 

“O Jesus my baby’s on the floor

Oh Jesus, my baby’s on the floor

Guess she’ll stay that was forever

Said she didn’t love me any more.

 

Worse gun I ever handled was that Smith and Wesson 45

Worse Gun I ever handled was that Smith and Wesson forty five

If I used a twenty two

My baby might still be alive

 

Too late to do something, don’t know if I can

Too late to do something don’t know if I can

Downstairs neighbor heard the shootin’

And I know she’s called the man.”

 

Final verse

Lookin into the light

Reorienting to club reality

Getting ready to go home

to fried pork chops and gravy.

 

Hard Livin

Hard dyin