Slavik
My mama done tol’ me,
when I was in knee-pants
my mama done tol’ me,
son a woman’ll sweet talk
and give you the big eye,
but when the sweet talkin’s done.
A woman’s a two-face,
a worrisome thing who’ll
leave you to sing the blues
in the night.
Now the rain’s a-fallin’,
hear the train’s a-callin,
whooee!
My mama done tol’ me
hear that lonesome whistle
blowin’ ’cross the trestle,
whooee!
My mama done tol’ me
a-whooee-ah-whooee
ol’ clickety-clack’s a-echoin’ back
the blues in the night.
The evening’ breeze’ll
start the trees to cryin’
and the moon’ll hide it’s light
when you get the blues
in the night.
Take my word,
the mockingbird’ll sing
the saddest kind o’ song,
he knows things are wrong,
and he’s right.
From Natchez to Mobile,
from Memphis to St. Joe,
wherever the four winds blow.
I been in some big towns
an’ heard me some big talk,
but there is one thing I know
a woman’s a two-face,
a worrisome thing who’ll leave you to sing the blues in the night.
Hmm, hmm.
My mama was right,
there’s blues in the night.
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