paroles de chanson Yaller - Cab Calloway

A
Dark folk, white folk, but never a hand,
They say to this man,
"You′re yaller, you're yaller, you′re yaller, you're just a yaller."

A
Black folk, white folk, I'm learning a lot,
You know what I am, I know what I′m not,

B
Ain′t even black, I ain't even white,
I ain′t like the day and I ain't like the night.
Feeling mean, so inbetween, I′m just a high yaller.

B
Ain't even bad, I ain′t even good,
I don't understand and I ain't understood,
Not a friend sticks to the end when you′re yaller.

C
Take me to a church and make me pray,
Make me sing a psalm there;
You better leave my soul in a crude cafe,
I don′t even belong there.

B
Oh Lord, can't you make a sinner a saint,
Why did you start me but run out of paint,
Pass me by, a no-′count yellow man.

B
Lord only knows, I'm trying to rest,
I want to be down with a load on my chest.
Make my bed; wish I were dead,
A yaller man.