You woke up this morning dreaming of the blues
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He¡¯s sitting in his armchair stumping with his shoes
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He knows it¡¯s not the delta or highway 61
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He¡¯s strumming his guitar like he¡¯s far away from home
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He thinks of Robert Johnson in 1936
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That¡¯s the only way he can get his kicks
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When the baby¡¯s crying and the money¡¯s all run out
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He¡¯s singing for his girl of one paces in the south
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They say he was born with his rhythm in his bones
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They say that his name is Jailhouse Gumbo Jones
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They say that sometimes everybody gots the blues
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One thing about cliches is that they¡¯re always true
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Jailhouse Gumbo Jones
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| Teitur |
