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Well, you wake up in the morning, hear the dingdong ring, |
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Ya go marchin' to the table, ya see the same old things, |
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All on one table, knife, a fork and a pan, |
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And it ya say a thing about it, you're in trouble with the man. |
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Chorus: |
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Oh, let the Midnight Special shine her light on me, |
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Let the Midnight Special shine her ever-lovin' light on me. |
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Oh, if you ever go to Houston, oh, man, ya better walk right, |
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Ya better not stagger, Lord knows, you'd better not fight. |
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Sheriff he'll arrest you, he'll carry ya down, |
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And if the jury finds ya guilty, you're penitentiary boun'. |
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(Chorus) |
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"O yonder comes Miss Rosie!" "How in the world do ya know?" |
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"Well, I knowed her by her apron and the dress she wore, |
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Umbrella on her shoulder, a piece of paper in her han'. |
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She goes a-walkin' to the captain, said, 'Turn loose my man!'" |
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(Chorus) |
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Well, I'm goin'-a leave you, and my time ain't long, |
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I'll be done wi' my grievin' and my great long song. |
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(Chorus) |
