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I was sitting in my classroom the other day, playing my harmonica in a mellow way. Some teachers seemed to have gathered around, trying to figure out what I was putting down. I thought it could be music, but the old people called it the blues. Ain't that pretty now? They were looking at me, sitting there all alone, Mumbling to each other in a real low tone. I couldn't figure out what they were saying. They couldn't understand what I was playing. But I thought it was pretty music, but the old people called it the blues. Ain't that pretty now? I called it pretty music, but the old people called it the blues. I called it pretty music, but the old people called it the blues. I called it pretty music, but the old people called it the blues.
