Testo Jailhouse Gumbo Jones

You woke up this morning dreaming of the blues
He’s sitting in his armchair stumping with his shoes
He knows it’s not the delta or highway 61

He’s strumming his guitar like he’s far away from home
He thinks of Robert Johnson in 1936
That’s the only way he can get his kicks
When the baby’s crying and the money’s all run out
He’s singing for his girl of one paces in the south
They say he was born with his rhythm in his bones
They say that his name is Jailhouse Gumbo Jones
They say that sometimes everybody gots the blues

One thing about clichés is that they’re always true