Blues de Coot Marseilles

(This story was told to me by Jerry Clover at the 1971 disc jockey

convention. I told Jerry I's gonna write a song about it

My brother Hillman gonna play the cigarette paper and the comb play.)

--- Paper & Comb Instrumental ---

Coot Marseilles was an old black man from down Mississippi way

He worked out in the white man's yard and he loved to sing and play

Ol' Coot worked hard God rest his soul he never was much to roam

His entire band was an old guitar a cigarette paper and a comb.

--- Paper & Comb Instrumental ---

Now ol' Coot had one song that he would sing when his long days were put in

There ain't nobody knows that song now cause I reckon that it died with him

His songs were made up 'o dry bones from pain and sweat and tears

And Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, was sometimes all you'd hear.

Now on Saturdays ol' Coot didn't work much 'cepten he built a fire in the stove

And when he get through he'd mosey on down and sit by the gravel road

He'd hum that song as he walked along with the faraway look in his eyes

And he sat there by the road all day watched them fine Ford cars go by.

Now on Saturday night the white folks danced and ol' Coot he'd pick and sing

He had an old RC bottle neck that he'd slide up and down them strings

Now Coot didn't care much for lyrics he just made 'em up as he went along

And Lord, I wish they had tape back then cause I'd sure love to hear them songs.

Well, his clothes were old and his hair was gray and hard work had bent his back

His songs were never recognized by statuettes or flags

His songs were all about the working man and Coot never owned a tie

The only thing he ever really had to do was die.

--- Paper & Comb Instrumental ---

Now ol' Coot's gone and maybe I'm wrong to bring it all back again

But I know his friends down in Mississippi sure thought a lot of him

So rock on Coot and enjoy your rest your long day's work is done

And if they got Fords up in Heaven sir I sure hope you're driving one.

--- Paper & Comb Instrumental ---

Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, Lord...

(Essa história me foi contada por Jerry Clover na convenção de DJs de 1971.

Eu disse ao Jerry que ia escrever uma música sobre isso.

Meu irmão Hillman vai tocar com papel de cigarro e um pente.)

--- Instrumental de Papel & Pente ---

Coot Marseilles era um velho negro lá do Mississippi

Ele trabalhava no quintal do homem branco e adorava cantar e tocar.

O velho Coot trabalhava duro, que Deus descanse sua alma, nunca foi de sair por aí.

Sua banda inteira era uma velha guitarra, um papel de cigarro e um pente.

--- Instrumental de Papel & Pente ---

Agora, o velho Coot tinha uma música que ele cantava quando seu longo dia acabava.

Ninguém conhece essa música agora, porque eu acho que morreu com ele.

Suas canções eram feitas de ossos secos, dor, suor e lágrimas.

E, Senhor, Senhor, Senhor, Senhor, às vezes era tudo que se ouvia.

Agora, aos sábados, o velho Coot não trabalhava muito, exceto quando acendia o fogo no fogão.

E quando terminava, ele ia devagar e sentava na beira da estrada de cascalho.

Ele assobiava aquela música enquanto caminhava com um olhar distante nos olhos.

E ele ficava ali na estrada o dia todo, vendo os belos carros Ford passarem.

Agora, à noite de sábado, os brancos dançavam e o velho Coot tocava e cantava.

Ele tinha uma velha garrafa de RC que deslizava para cima e para baixo nas cordas.

O Coot não se importava muito com letras, ele só as inventava enquanto ia tocando.

E, Senhor, eu gostaria que tivesse fita naquela época, porque eu adoraria ouvir essas músicas.

Bem, suas roupas eram velhas e seu cabelo era grisalho, e o trabalho duro curvou suas costas.

Suas canções nunca foram reconhecidas por estatuetas ou bandeiras.

Suas músicas eram todas sobre o homem trabalhador, e o Coot nunca usou gravata.

A única coisa que ele realmente tinha que fazer era morrer.

--- Instrumental de Papel & Pente ---

Agora, o velho Coot se foi, e talvez eu esteja errado em trazer tudo isso de volta.

Mas eu sei que seus amigos lá no Mississippi realmente o admiravam.

Então, descanse em paz, Coot, e aproveite seu descanso, seu longo dia de trabalho acabou.

E se tiver Fords no Céu, senhor, eu espero que você esteja dirigindo um.

--- Instrumental de Papel & Pente ---

Senhor, Senhor, Senhor, Senhor, Senhor...