Pre-War Blues 1923-1931

Folks, I know a gal named Cemetery Lize down in Tennessee
She has got a pair of mean ol' graveyard eyes full of misery
Every night and day
You can hear her sing her blues away

I’m going down to the cemetery 'cause the world is all wrong
I'm going down to the cemetery ’cause the world is all wrong
And there with the spooks to hear 'em sing my sorrow song

[Verse 3]
Got a date to see a ghost by the name of Jones
Got a date to see a ghost by the name of Jones
Makes me feel happy to hear him rattle his bones

Hey‚ he ain't no fine dresser‚ he don't wear nothin' but a sack
Every time he kisses me‚ that funny feelin' creeps up my back

Oh it's tight like this
No it ain't tight like that either
I said it is tight like this
... tight like that there

Oh it's tight like that Louis
No it ain't tight like that either
Now it closes like that

I know you like my lovin′, I can tell from the way you whine
I know you like my lovin', I can tell from the way you whine
Since you taste my jelly, you just worries me all the time

I told you, pretty mama, I had the best jelly in your town
I told you, pretty mama, I had the best jelly in your town
Since you got a little taste, you just keep on hangin′ around

I'll swim deep, pretty mama, just like a catfish loaded down
I'll swim deep, pretty mama, just like a catfish loaded down

And every time you see me, you wants to fall down on the ground

When me and my baby start to lovin′,
We wants to fight like cats and dogs
When me and my baby start to lovin′,
We wants to fight like cats and dogs
But before it's over with, we hollerin′, "Lord, oh, Lordy Lord!"

I left my mother, the best friend I'd had
For the man that took me, that’s why I'm all-in bad
Nobody gives me sympathy
That's the reason why I cry "Poor me"

Sittin' all alone, I can see a thousand miles away
Sittin' all alone, I can see a thousand miles away
I can see the man that made me what I am today

He has made me weep, he has made me moan and groan
He has made me weep, he has made me moan and groan
Took me from my home and left me all alone

Left my mother standing in the door
I left my mother standing in the door
With her hand on my head as her tears fell to the floor

All my clothes [?] wipe my tears
All my clothes [?] wipe my tears
And my heart's so broke that I've got them "Poor Me" Blues

Jenny Neale
Down in Beale
Gave her papa the air
Left him cold
Got him told
Said she didn't care
Old Joe, her beau
Looked just like he would die
If you was near him
You would hear him
Sob his mournful cry
Beale Street Papa
Why don't you come back home?
It isn't proper to leave your mama all alone
Sometimes I was cruel, that was true
But Papa, you know Mama never two-timed you
Boo-hoo, I'm blue
So how come you do me like you do?
I'm cryin'
Beale Street Papa, don't mess around with me
There's plenty pettin' that I can get in Tennessee
I'll still get my sweet cooking, constantly
But not the kind you served to me
So Beale Street Papa, come back home
So how come you do me like you do?
I'm cryin'
Beale Street Papa, don't mess around with me
There's plenty pettin' that I can get in Tennessee
I bought a rifle, razor and a knife
A postal card can't save my life
So Beale Street Papa, come back home

Songwriters: Roy Turk / J. Russell Robinson
Beale Street Mama lyrics © J Russell Robinson Inc

Nobody knows the way I feel
This morning, this morning
Nobody knows the way I feel
This morning, this morning

If I'd only had my way
The graveyard would be the place
My man would lay
Nobody knows the way I feel this morning

I feel like I could scream and cry
This morning, this morning
I feel like I could scream and cry
This morning, this morning

I feel like I could scream and cry
I'm true out on it or I'd rather die
Nobody knows the way I feel this morning

I even hate to hear your name
This morning, this morning
I even hate to hear your name
This morning, this morning

I even hate to hear your name
I could kill you and take a brown eyed express train
Nobody knows the way I feel this morning

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: PEARL DELANEY, TOM DELANEY

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