Episode 1 The Devil's Music


Episode 1

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Many people believe the blues began in Mississippi,

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though it's the kind of thing no-one can prove one way or the other.

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The blues were created by poor blacks in the South, that's certain.

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It happened sometime after about 1900, that too is certain.

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Snatches of song were written down by folklore collectors,

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that's about all the evidence we have.

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So what did those old blues -

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and they weren't always even called that - what did they sound like?

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Possibly something like this...

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# Hey, poor boy

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# All the way back home

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# Hey, poor boy We got pulled over

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# And they put us off and prison-bound

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# Their mother, she got worried

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# The evenin' sun was goin' down

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# Their mother, she said, she said

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# My son somewhere in prison is bound

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# My, their mother, she got worried

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# My mother went on scrapin' and cryin'

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# My mother called

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# He told her They had us sent prisoner-bound

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# Well, my mother talked to the sergeant

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# Asked him how much was our bail

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# Well, the sergeant told my mother

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# They would take 200 dollar bills

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# My mother she came to the sergeant

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# She didn't even have a dime

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# My mother saw me looking inside now

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# She said "I don't even have a dime"

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# Well, the sergeant He talked to my mama

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# Pulled me down this awful freight train

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# They said "You'll get your 200 dollar bills

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# "And I will return him back to your home." #

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That was Bukka White singing Poor Boy,

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an archetypal traditional folk song.

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Folk collectors found that song all over the Deep South in the 1900s.

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Every singer sings it his or her own way, making up their own words,

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passing it on in a new form, but always, it's Poor Boy.

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Booker White died only a few months after that film of him

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at his home in Memphis, Tennessee.

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And many regarded him

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as the last of the great Mississippi country blues singers.

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Now, the sliding of the knife on the guitar

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is a style going back to the earliest days of country blues.

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In this next song, he uses a metal tube over his finger as a slide.

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He used to use a bottle neck but it cut up his finger.

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This is his own song,

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not some folk song passed on from other singers,

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but his own composition.

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# Aberdeen is my home

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# But the men don't want me around

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# Aberdeen is my home

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# But the men don't want me around

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# Cos they know I will take these women

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# I will take them outta town

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# Ooh, sittin' down in Aberdeen

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# With New Orleans on my mind

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# I was sittin' down in Aberdeen

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# With New Orleans on my mind

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# Well, them Aberdeen women

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# Told me they would buy my own gasoline

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# Hey, two little women

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# I ain't ever seen

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# They has two little women

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# That I ain't ever seen

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# Well, these two little pretty women

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# Just from New Orleans

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# Play it good now

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# Oh, listen, you women

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# You know that I'm a poor boy

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# Listen, Aberdeen women

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# I don't have a dime

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# Even though I'm a poor boy

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# Don't even have a dime

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# Cool it now

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# Oooooh Oooh, ooh, yeah

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# Where we used to live

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# Oh, look over yonder

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# Where we used to live

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# Well, don't you know what they do to me

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# Can you

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# Yeah!

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# Bah, bah

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# Bah-bah-beep I'll find him and say no more

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# Bah-bah, bah-bah

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# I don't sing no more

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# You can tell everybody

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# Standin' knockin' on the door

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# Tyin' it up now

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# Put rhythm to it. #

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The record is going out in Aberdeen, Mississippi,

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across the Tombigbee river, goodbye, good.

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Back in the '20s and '30s,

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songs like that were the pop songs of the day.

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On brittle 78s, cheaply recorded,

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often by non-professional singers,

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just the good old boy from the plantation nearby

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who played for dancers.

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Once songs came out on record other people would hear them

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and so the folk tradition carried on.

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But, unlike now, when a song is covered by pop artists,

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the words would get changed and the song,

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though basically an old one, would still be personal to the singer.

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This next song first came out in 1928

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by a magnificent Mississippi singer called Tommy Johnson.

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The version we have here

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is by an old friend of Tommy's, Houston Stackhouse,

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backed by Joe Willie Wilkins - Cool Drink Of Water.

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# I asked her for cool water

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# And she gave me gasoline

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# Lord, I'd ask her for water

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# She'd give me gasoline

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# Lord, I asked for cool water

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# And she gave me gasoline

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# Lord, Good Lordy, Lord

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# Cry, "Lord, I wonder

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# "Will I ever get back home?"

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# Cried, "Lord, I wonder

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# "Will I ever get back home?"

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# Good Lord, Lordy, Lord

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# Lord, I went to the depot

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# Looked up on a board

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# Lord, I asked

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# How long

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# Had this south-bound train been gone

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# She said, "He done taken your faror

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# "Blown back smoke on you"

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# Said, "He's taken your faror

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# "Blown the smoke on you"

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# Lord, Lordy, Lord

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# Lord, I asked the conductor

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# "Could I ride the blind?"

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# Wanna know can a broke man ride the blind, I ain't got a dime

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# He said "Son, buy your ticket

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# "Buy your ticket

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# "Cos this train ain't none of mine"

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# He said "Son, buy your ticket

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# "The train ain't none of mine"

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# He said "Son, buy your ticket

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# "Buy your ticket

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# "Cos the train ain't none of mine"

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# Good Lord, Lordy Lord. #

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How about that?

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While old traditional songs

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were being passed on by being recorded,

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there were also plenty of new blues being composed.

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By the 1940s and '50s, you could hear blues on the radio.

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Usually little local stations who would play records,

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or sometimes use a local band to advertise products.

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Our next singer, Sonny Blake,

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was inspired to take up music

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partly by hearing harmonica blues on the radio.

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The song he sings comes not from Mississippi,

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but from a record made by a man from Waco, Texas, Mercy Dee Walton.

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When it first came out in 1952,

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it was up-to-the-minute black pop music.

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Now it's become a blues standard,

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One Room Country Shack.

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# Sittin' here 1,000 miles from nowhere

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# In this one-room country shack

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# Sittin' here 1,000 miles from nowhere

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# In this one-room country shack

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# Oh, I ain't got no kind of companion

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# Nothin' but this old nine-foot cotton sack

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# Every night around midnight

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# People, I just can't sleep no more

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# Every night around midnight

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# People, I just can't sleep no more

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# Only a cricket and frog to keep me company

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# What, boy?

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# And the wind's howlin' round my door

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HE PLAYS HARMONICA

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# I'm gon' get up early in the mornin'

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# Look out this old raggedy beat-out T

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# I'm gon' get up early in the mornin'

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# Look out this old raggedy beat-out T

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# Yeah, babe You know there's an actual fact

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# I don't know where in the world that I'll stop at

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# Oh, mercy!

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# Sittin' here 1,000 miles from nowhere

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# In this one-room country shack

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# Sittin' here 1,000 miles from nowhere

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# In this one-room country shack

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# Oh, d'you know I ain't got no kind of companion

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# Nothin' but this old nine-foot cotton sack. #

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Records, radio - all these are perfectly legitimate ways

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for folk music to be passed on.

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But more traditionally-minded folklorists

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might rule them out, "Two commercial", they'd say.

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"Folk songs should be passed on

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"purely by word of mouth," they'd argue.

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They're only really happy when the composer is "Anon"

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and the song's origins lost in the mists of time.

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Well, our next singer

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is the kind of man the folklorists would probably like.

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When he was filmed in 1976,

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he was age 77, long white beard,

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and hands horny from years of working in the cotton fields.

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Sam Chatmon learned his music

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long before blues records were being made.

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He learned from his father and his huge family,

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nearly all of whom were musicianers,

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so they all swapped songs, swapped instruments,

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learned from other singers

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and lived their lives right at the heart of the living folk process.

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# I got a brown-skinned woman

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# Live up on the hill

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# Now don't you hear me telling you where you stay?

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# I got a brown-skinned woman

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# Live on a hill

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# And that fool quit me

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# I swear I love her still

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# How come you wanna do, woman

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# Like you do, do, do?

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# Now don't you

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# Hear me tell you, pretty mama

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# How come you wanna do, woman

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# Like you do, do, do?

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# How come you wanna treat me, woman

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# Like you do, do, do?

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# When I was uptown this mornin'

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# On my way back home

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# Now, don't you hear me tellin' you, pretty mama

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# When I was uptown this mornin'

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# On my way back home

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# Well, the devil met me and told me

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# "Your woman's dead and gone"

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# Don't the hearse look lonesome

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# Rolling 'fore your door?

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# Now, don't you hear me

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# Telling you, pretty mama?

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# Don't the hearse look lonesome

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# Rolling 'fore your door?

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# It's taken that woman you loving

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# And she can't get back no more

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# Well, I ain't going down

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# Big road by myself

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# Now, don't you hear me

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# Telling you, pretty mama?

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# Well, I ain't going down

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# Big road by myself

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# And if I can't take you, woman

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# I carry somebody else

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# Oh, yes, I is, baby

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# Well, went to the grave

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# Looked down on her face

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# Now, don't you hear me

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# Telling you, pretty mama

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# I went to the grave

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# Looked down on her face

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# Said, "I feel your condition, woman"

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# But I sure can't take your place. #

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A fine, assured performance from Sam Chatmon.

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People think of blues as sad -

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the word means depressed, or in low spirits.

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And of course, the blues can be sad, can be poignant.

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But they're also about helping you not to feel sad,

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blues can be about feeling good.

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Then, as often as not it's good-time music, music to dance to,

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and that's what Sam's Rag is all about.

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# That's my girl

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# Oh, shake it now

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# Oh, that's my girl

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# Who's doing it now

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# I ain't going to take nobody's word

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# I'll stir it with myself

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# Oh, see that girl with the red dress on

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# Oh, she got good Show us your boy

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# Oh, see that girl with the red dress on

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# Oh, she got good Show us your boy

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# I ain't gonna take nobody's word

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# I'll try it for myself

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# Oh, that's my girl

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# Oh, that's my fella

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# Oh, shake it now

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# Who's doing it now?

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# I ain't gonna take nobody's word

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# I'll stir it with myself

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# Yeah, boy!

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# Oh, get on

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# That's what I'm talkin' about

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# Oh, that's my girl

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# Oh, shake it now

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# Oh, that's my girl

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# Oh, stirrin' it now

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# I ain't gonna take nobody's word

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# I'll stir it with myself

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# Oh, mama, mama, look at sis

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# In that back yard, doing that twist

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# Mama, just look at sis

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# In the back yard doing the twist

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# Now, I ain't gonna take nobody's word

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# I'll stir it with myself. #

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