Well, I've got stones in my passway
And my road, it's black as night
Yeah, I got stones in my passway
And my road, it's black as night
I got some pains in my heart
And they're stealing my appetite
Well, I got a bird to whistle
I got a bird to sing
Yes, I got a bird to whistle
I got a bird to sing
I got a woman that I'm lovin'
But she don't mean a thing
You trying to take my life
All my money too
I say to you lady
What you trying to do?
I say please, hey let us be friends
You hear me howlin' in your passway, baby please let me in
Well, I got three legs to walk on
Baby, please don't block my road
Yes, I got three legs to walk on
Baby, please don't block my road
-Stones In My Passway-R. Johnson
Robert Johnson was a brilliant and tragic young bluesman from the Missiippi Delta cotton fields and juke joints of the sharecropper 1930's.
He wrote and performed in the Black underclass culture of the racist American South and died from poisoning by a jealous husband and owner of a bar where he was performing in 1938.
Many myths have grown around the writing and guitar playing of Johnson and he has influenced generations of musicians and poets with his compressed and exquisite work.
I'll play sound Johnson and other blues as well next week and see if it inspires some art for you.
See you next week, john.
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