The Devil's Son

The gypsy woman told my mama

I’m not feeling so good ‘bout this one

I know you were hoping for a baby girl

But what you gave us is the devils son.

He might not have horns on his little head

And he doesn’t have hooves for feet

But on that fateful day he was conceived

You played a deadly game of trick-or-treat.

He’s destined to sing the devils song

And play those lowdown unholy blues

There ain’t a church around that’s gonna help this boy

You’ll never see him kneeling, in their pews.

Gypsy slapped my butt, as she hung me high

I just looked at her and grinned

She seemed upset that I didn’t cry

Acting like I’d already sinned.

Then the Gypsy moaned….….

This boy will be singin’ the devils song

And playin’ those lowdown dirty blues

There ain’t a church in the land that’s gonna hold this one

You’ll never see him kneeling, in their pews.

So they took me down where the river flows

And lay me in a picnic basket

I took the Mississippi all the way to Clarksdale

In my little wicker…..casket.

I was pulled ashore by a man named Muddy

He kept one hand on his six-string

The former slave didn’t have much a nuthin’

But man he sure could play and sing.

By the time I was three I was on his knee

In the juke joints and country dances

“The old blues man and his kid protégé”

We sure ‘nuff drew some funny glances.

But by the time I was six I had a string for each year

And Muddy had taught me all he knew

Then he scratched his head, when a year or so later

They were calling me,

“king of the blues.”

He said, “Boy did you go and make a deal with the devil?”

I said, “Muddy, that would just be dumb.”

“There ain’t no cause for me to make a deal,

You gotta know by now.”

“That I’m the devils SON!”

That Gypsy woman, she had it right

When she gave my mama the news

Cause as I slid out onto that wooden table

She already knew.

That I was BORN to play the blues..