Bo Weavil Jackson Poor Boy Blues
I woke up this morning blues all around my bed
Thinking about that wire that my brown had sent
Lord I'm poor boy here long ways from home
Ain't got nowhere not to lay my head
Cold frosty ground was my bed last night
Thinking about the wire that my baby had sent
But my mama told me Sam come down fast
Whiskey and women will bother your learning bad
Now my mama dead so is my daddy too
Should I caught the wire trying to get along with you
So many days I stoled away and cried
Poor boy's in the streets can't be satisfied
Going write a letter mailed it in the air
Mail it by the window love yous everywhere
Lord Lord ain't going to moan no more
