Statesboro Blues

So, I figure, there I was, glue on my fingers, not knowing what I was going to play, a stranger in a stranger land where loons totter in spilt moonlight and martinets are heard but rarely seen, their fluttering like breaths and whispers into raven ears. I had some friends in the crowd. That was smart. But all I could think, all I could really think, looking out blind from the light in my eyes, was man, man-oh-man, they oughta see this Jewboy fireman when he gets the boiler hot.


1994 Version (from “Live at the Legenday Folkway cafĂ©“):

2 Replies to “Statesboro Blues”

  1. Presume at will, my friend. Next time I see you, if you haven’t sussed it out already for yourself, I’ll let yoiu in on what Diddy Wah-Diddy means. It might cost you a beer though.

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