Blind Willie McTell

Seen the arrow on the door-post saying this land is condemned

All the way from New Orleans to Jerusalem.

I traveled through East Texas where many martyrs fell

And I know no one can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell.

Well, I heard the hoot owl singing as they were taking down the tents,

The stars above the barren trees was his only audience.

Them charcoal gypsy maidens can strut their feathers well,

But nobody can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell.

See them big plantations burning, hear the cracking of the whips,

Smell that sweet magnolia blooming, see the ghost of slavery ships,

I can hear them tribes moaning, hear that undertaker's bell,

Nobody can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell.

There's a woman by the river with some fine, young, handsome man,

He's dressed up like a squire, bootlegged whiskey in his hand,

There's a chain gang on the highway, I can hear them rebels yell,

And I know no one can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell.

Well, God is in his heaven and we all want what's his,

But power and greed and corruptible seed seem to be all that there is.

I'm gazing out the window of the St. James Hotel

And I know no one can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell.