| Lyrics: | The kid heard the word up in Brooklyn.
It was his second year of medical school.
He went and
stashed some jeans into his guitar case,
His father said, "You're a fool".
But the boy
jumped on board a Greyhound bus,
It took him two days to get to Mobile,
And though it took
two weeks to track the old man down,
He never doubted that the rumor was real.
But
there the old man stood by the store front,
With his white cane hanging from his belt.
And
he was bending the steel of his guitar strings
So it seemed like the metal had to melt.
He
was the last of the street corner singers
Paying his final years of dues
The voice in his
throat was like a bullfrog croak
Yes it's he who invented the blues.
"To play the
blues, boy, you got to live 'em
Got your dues, boy, you know you got to give 'em
Got to
start sweet like a slow blues rhythm
Like a heartbeat you'll always be with 'em
When you're
married to the blues, boy,
Your guitar is your wife.
It's like that fine old woman
Who
you're faithful to for life."
Well the kid walked up as the blind man finished
And was
bent to put his guitar away.
The old man heard him and said, "Who are you?"
"I'm the kid
you're gonna teach to play."
The old man laughed but the kid kept talking 'bout
How he'd
help him get around
That's when the old man said,
"I don't need no fool to get me where in
the hell I'm bound"
The kid nods his head with a great big grin and says,
"When do we
begin?"
That's when the old man said,
"If You're staying with me
This is how it's got to
be..."
"To play the blues, boy, you got to live 'em
Got your dues, boy, you know you
got to give 'em
Got to s |
