blues off the levee. And let them go I have been down at Natchez. Down to Baton Rouge. You see the river keep on callin' me. No matter what I do. No matter what I do Take me down. To the levee where
old hush-yo'-mouth. It's a slow road on down. That old Natchez Trace. Through Alabama cotton fields to a state of grace. It's a crisp golden Autumn. On the Tennessee line. Rolling down to Mississippi
. When you get the blues in the night. . Take my word, the mocking bird'll sing. The saddest kind of song. He knows things are wrong and he's right. . From Natchez to Mobile, from Memphis to St. Joe
blues in the night Take my word, the mockingbird'll sing. The saddest kind o' song. He knows things are wrong. And he's right From Natchez to Mobile, from Memphis to St. Joe. Wherever the four winds
". And I found her trail in Memphis, but she just walked up the block. Raised a few eyebrows and went on down alone. Well, I pulled into Natchez, next day down the river. But there wasn't much there to
