Brown's Ferry Blues

H@rd luck poppa, a-countin' his toes,
You can smell his feet wherever he goes,
Lord, Lord, and he's got those Brown's Ferry Blues.
Hard luck poppa done lost his stuff
The trouble with him he's played too rough.
Lord, Lord, and he's got those Brown's Ferry Blues.

Two old maids a-sitting in the sand,
Each one wishing that the other was a man,
Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues
Two old maids done lost their style,
If you want to be lucky you got to smile.
Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues

Early to bed and early, to rise,
And your girl goes out with other guys.
Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry BIues
If you don't believe me try it yourself,
Well I tried it and I got left.
Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues

Hardluck poppa standing in the rain,
If the world was corn he couldn't buy grain.
Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues
Hardluck poppa standing in the snow,
His knees knock together but he's raring to go.
Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues.

Recorded by the New Lost City Ramblers
RG