Blind Willie McTell
Seen the arrow on the doorpostSaying, “This land is condemnedAll the way from New OrleansTo Jerusalem”I traveled through East TexasWhere many martyrs fellAnd I know no one can sing the bluesLike Blind Willie McTell
Well, I heard that hoot owl singingAs they were taking down the tentsThe stars above the barren treesWere his only audienceThem charcoal gypsy maidensCan strut their feathers wellBut nobody can sing the bluesLike Blind Willie McTell
See them big plantations burningHear the cracking of the whipsSmell that sweet magnolia bloomingSee the ghosts of slavery shipsI can hear them tribes a-moaningHear that undertaker’s bellNobody can sing the bluesLike Blind Willie McTell
There’s a woman by the riverWith some fine young handsome manHe’s dressed up like a squireBootlegged whiskey in his handThere’s a chain gang on the highwayI can hear them rebels yellAnd I know no one can sing the bluesLike Blind Willie McTell
Well, God is in His heavenAnd we all want what’s HisBut power and greed and corruptible seedSeem to be all that there isI’m gazing out the windowOf the St. James HotelAnd I know no one can sing the bluesLike Blind Willie McTell