Whaddya you know, Gumbo joe
Do-si-do’s, to and fro
Whaddya you know
Its Gumbo joe
Whad’ya you know,
It’s Gumbo Joe, Talks real low
Cuts the snow, counts his dough
Well, I seen him in El Paso
Down in the swamps of Louisianna
Seen him out in Reno
And over in Atlanta
Gumbo joe
Whaddya know
Plays his cane, talks urbane
Drinks his pain, rots his brain
Who’s to blame?
Plays his game
Who’s to blame?
Takes the next train, don’t take names
Takes him aim, shoots with shame
He’s been painting Mississippi
Wanted down in Baton Rouge
He’s pimpin’ down in New Orleans
That boy’s got nothing to lose
Traps catfish in the bayou’s and he sells em’ for a buck
Spends his nights in the saloons, and he plays his Cajun luck
His father was a con-man, he was always on a lamb
Born in fire and ashes, now that boy’s one hell of a man
No code of honor to fool him, no bloodline to uphold
Nobody there can school him, no pathways lined with gold
Just police dogs a-drooling, just one more bridge is burned
A lonesome shadow looming, just one more wrong turn
I been around
I been up and down
The streets before
Threw the dice
Gave up my life
Kicked down the door
In they came
They called out my name
Today is the day
My hand it drew
It came right on cue
They blew me away
credits
from Field Recordings,
released July 13, 2016
Drums - Cayle Wendorf
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