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Hughes called this "my lucky poem" after it won first prize in a literary contest sponsored by Opportunity magazine in 1925. The poem includes the first blues verses he'd heard as a child growing up in Lawrence, Kansas. It is also one of the first poems where Hughes began to experiment with how to incorporate African-American musical motifs from the blues, jazz, and spirituals into his verse.
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway...
He did a lazy sway...
To the tune 'o those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan -
"Ain't got nobody in all this world,
Ain't got nobody but ma self.
I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
And put ma troubles on the shelf."
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more -
"I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied -
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singe stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.
This tune is from the field or levee camp-holler tradition, with lyrics adapted to prison conditions. Here the "long time" man is hoping for a visit from his woman. The strident, melismatic singing and pentatonic scale (becoming hexatonic in the last two stanzas) are found in many blues from Mississippi, which draw upon this solo work-song tradition.
Big Charlie Butler had recorded for John A. Lomax at Parchman Penitentiary in 1937, and he reimbered Lomax when the folklorist returned two years later. This song of longing for someone in the free world takes on added poignancy when we learn that Butler was the 'gate man' at Parchman Camp No. 1 and therefore the inmate closest to freedom. He was released in July 1942, perhaps to be reunited with his Sal.
Oh, Lordy -
Lord, it's better to be born lucky
than be born blind.
Lord, I'm looking for Sal, baby, on the first thing down.
First thing down, on the first thing down.
Lord, get to thinking about her, get trouble in mind.
Trouble in mind, oh Lordy, get trouble in mind.
Lord, get to thinking about her. I get trouble in mind.
John A. Lomax (spoken): Talk to your horse. Talk to your mule. Go ahead. Sing 'em at 'em.
Trouble in mind, oh Lordy, gets trouble in mind.
Oh, get to thinking about her, I can't keep from crying.
The gypsy woman told my mother
Before I was born
I got a boy child's comin'
He's gonna be a son of a gun
He gonna make pretty women's
Jump and shout
Then the world wanna know
What this all about
But you know I'm him
Everybody knows I'm him
Well you know I'm the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I'm him
I got a black cat bone
I got a mojo too
I got the Johnny Concheroo
I'm gonna mess with you
I'm gonna make you girls
Lead me by my hand
Then the world will know
The hoochie coochie man
But you know I'm him
Everybody knows I'm him
Oh you know I'm the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I'm him
On the seventh hours
On the seventh day
On the seventh month
The seven doctors say
He was born for good luck
And that you'll see
I got seven hundred dollars
Don't you mess with me
But you know I'm him
Everybody knows I'm him
Well you know I'm the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I'm him
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
Hard luck and trouble is my only friend
I been on my own ever since I was ten
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
I can't read, haven't learned how to write
My whole life has been one big fight
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
I ain't lyin'
If it wasn't for bad luck
I wouldn't have no kind-a luck
If it wasn't for real bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
Wine and women is all I crave
A big legged woman is
gonna carry me to my grave
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
Yeah, my bad luck boy
Been havin' bad luck all of my days, yes
I'm a bad luck woman
I'm a bad luck woman
I'm a bad luck woman
I can't see the reason why
About the song:
Quote:
From 1935 onwards, Minnie's recordings began to reflect changing tastes. She had now fully absorbed the city (Chicago) blues style and was regularly featured with pianists like Black Bob Hudson, Big Bill Broonzy's regular accompanist, Jimmie Gordon and Blind John Davis, a bass player, usually Bill Settles and sometimes trumpet, clarinet or drums.
Typical for this period are the evocative Black cat blues and I'm a bad luck woman and her celebration of Joe Louis, the legendary Brown Bomber with He's in the ring and Joe Louis Strut. Minnie's songs continued to draw from aspects of her own life and the events and personalities that touched upon it. (From the excellent liner notes by Joop Visser)
My bills are all due and the baby needs shoes and I'm busted
Cotton is down to a quarter a pound, but I'm busted
I got a cow that went dry and a hen that won't lay
A big stack of bills that gets bigger each day
The county's gonna haul my belongings away cause I'm busted.
I went to my brother to ask for a loan cause I was busted
I hate to beg like a dog without his bone, but I'm busted
My brother said there ain't a thing I can do,
My wife and my kids are all down with the flu,
And I was just thinking about calling on you 'cause I'm busted.
Well, I am no thief, but a man can go wrong when he's busted
The food that we canned last summer is gone and I'm busted
The fields are all bare and the cotton won't grow,
Me and my family got to pack up and go,
But I'll make a living, just where I don't know cause I'm busted.
I'm broke, no bread, I mean like nothing, It's over
I'll Never Get Out of this World Alive
By Hank Williams and Fred Rose
Now you’re [f] lookin’ at a man that’s gettin’ kind-a mad
I had lot’s of luck but it’s all been bad
No [c7] matter how I struggle and strive
I’ll never get out of this world a-[f] live.
My fishin’ pole’s broke the creek is full of sand
My woman run away with another man
No matter how I struggle and strive
I’ll never get out of this world alive.
A [bb] distant uncle passed away [bb7] and [f] left me quite a batch [f7]
And [bb] I was livin’g high until that fatal [bb7] day
A lawyer [c7] proved I wasn’t born
I was only hatched.---[f]
Ev’rything’s agin’ me and it’s got me down
If I jumped in the river I would prob’ly drown
No matter how I struggle and strive
I’ll never get out of this world alive.
These shabby shoes I’m wearin’ all the time
Are full of holes and nails
And brother if I stepped on a worn out dime
I bet a nickel I could tell you if it was heads or tails.
I’m not gonna worry wrinkles in my brow
’cause nothin’s ever gonna be alright nohow
No matter how I struggle and strive
I’ll never get out of this world alive.
(additional verses)
I could buy a sunday suit and it would leave me broke
If it had two pair of pants I would burn the coat
No matter how I struggle and strive
I’ll never get out of this world alive.
If it was rainin’ gold I wouldn’t stand a chance
I wouldn’t have a pocket in my patched up pants
No matter how I struggle and strive
I’ll never get out of this world alive.
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