TALKING BLUES

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Song Title
TALKING BLUES
Writers
Hays, Hellerman, Gilbert, Seeger
Publisher
FOLKWAYS MUSIC PUBLISHERS, INC. (BMI)
% Publisher Controls
100%
Territory Controlled
WORLD
Lyrics
Now you wanna go to Heaven,
Lemme tell you what to do:
Gotta grease your feet
In a little mutton stew.
Slide out of the Devil’s hand,
Just ooze over to the Promised Land.
Take it easy, boy!
Go greasy!

Now mommy’s in the kitchen,
Preparing to eat;
Sister’s in the pantry,
Lookin’ for some yeast.
Poppa’s in the cellar,
Mixin’ up the hops;
And brother’s at the window,
Watchin’ for the cops.
Drinkin’ home brew!
Makes you happy.
Hic! Hic!
Ah, hah!

I was down in the holler,
Settin’ on a log,
My finger on my trigger
And my eye on a hog.
I pilled that trigger
And the gun went “zip!”
I grabbed that hog
With all o’ my grip.
‘Cause I can’t eat hogs’ eyes.
But I love chitlins.

I was down in the hen house,
Down on my knees,
And I thought I heard
A chicken sneeze,
But it was only a rooster,
Sayin’ his prayers,
Thankin’ the Lord
For the hens upstairs.
Boy, was the roosters prayin’,
Hens a-layin’,
And little pullets just pluggin’ away
The best they knew how.

Ain’t no use
Me workin’ so hard,
I got a gal
In the rich folks’ yard.
They kill a chicken,
She sends me the head.
She thinks I’m workin’,
I’m a-layin’ up in bed,
Just dreamin’ about her.
Havin’ a good time,
Two other women!

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