Hall Tom T: Coot marseilles blues

Coot Marseilles was an old black man from down Mississippi wayHe worked out in the white man's yard and he loved to sing and playOl' Coot worked hard God rest his soul he never was much to roamHis entire band was an old guitar a cigarette paper and a comb[ paper & comb ]Now ol' Coot had one song that he would sing when his long days were put inThere ain't nobody knows that song now cause I reckon that it died with himHis songs were made up 'o dry bones from pain and sweat and tearsAnd Lordy Lordy Lordy Lordy was sometimes all you'd hearNow on Saturdays ol' Coot didn't work much 'cepten he built a fire in the stoveAnd when he get through he'd mosey on down and sit by the gravel roadHe'd hum that song as he walked along with the faraway look in his eyesAnd he sat there by the road all day watched them fine Ford cars go byNow on Saturday night the white folks danced and ol' Coot he'd pick and singHe had an old RC bottle neck that he'd slide up and down them stringsNow Coot didn't care much for lyrics he just made 'em up as he went alongAnd Lord I wish they had tape back then cause I'd sure love to hear them songsWell his clothes were old and his hair was gray and hard work had bent his backHis songs were never recognized by statuettes or flagsHis songs were all about the working man and Coot never owned a tieThe only thing he ever really had to do was die[ paper & comb ]Now ol' Coot's gone and maybe I'm wrong to bring it all back againBut I know his friends down in Mississippi sure thought a lot of himSo rock on Coot and enjoy your rest your long day's work is doneAnd if they got Fords up in Heaven sir I sure hope you're driving one[ paper & comb ]Lordy Lordy Lordy Lordy Lord