Luyện nghe bài hát Coot Marseilles Blues

{This story was to me by Jerry Clover
At the Disc Jockey Convention
I told Jerry I's gonna write a about it
My brother Hillman gonna play 'The Paper And The Comb'
it}

Coot Marseilles was an old man
down Mississippi way
He worked out in the man's yard
And he loved to and play

Ol' Coot hard, God rest his soul
He never was to roam
His entire band was an old
A cigarette and a comb

Now ol' had one song
That he would when his long days were put in
There ain't nobody knows that now
'Cause I that it died with him

His were made up 'o dry bones
From pain and sweat and
And 'Lordy Lordy Lordy'
Was sometimes all hear

Now on Saturdays ol' Coot didn't work
'Cepten he built a fire in the
And he get through he'd mosey on down
And sit by the gravel

He'd hum that as he walked along
With the faraway look in his
And he sit by the road all day
them fine Ford cars go by

Now on Saturday night the white folks
And ol' Coot he'd and sing
He had an old RC neck
That slide up and down them strings

Now Coot care much for lyrics
He just made 'em up as he went
And Lord I they had a tape back then
'Cause I'd sure love to hear song

his clothes were old and his hair was gray
And hard work had bent his
His songs were never
By statuettes or

His songs were all the working man
And Coot owned a tie
The only thing he really had to do
Was die

Now ol' Coot's gone and maybe I'm
To bring it all back
But I his friends down in Mississippi
thought a lot of him

So rock on and enjoy your rest
Your long day's work is
And if they got up in Heaven, sir
I sure you're driving one

Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord
Lordy Lordy Lordy Lordy