Текст песни Talking Blues - The Weavers

This one all you do is throw your head back
And open your tonsils wild and do what′s known as the Talking Blues

Now you wanna go to heaven, let me tell you what to do
Gotta grease your feet in a little mutton stew
You just slide out of the devil's hand
And ooze over in the Promised Land
Take it easy boy
Go greasy, slip on the side my friend

Well now, Momma′s in the kitchen preparin' to eat
Sister's in the pantry lookin′ for some yeast
Papa′s in the cellar mixin' up the hops
Brother′s at the window watchin' for the cops
Drinkin′ home brew
Makes you happy, hic, hic aha

Now the rate ain't no use in me workin′ so hard
I got a gal in the rich folks' yard
They kill a chicken, she sends me the head
She thinks I'm workin′, I′m layin' up in bed
I′m havin' a good time
I′m dreamin' about her and two other women

Now it took me a wife about five years ago
We got a little boy now just about four
He gets up at the table and he slaps his ma
Rubs syrup in my hair, and says ain′t you my pa
Runs string beans up my nose
Rubs mustard in my eyes, potatoes in my ears
Cute kid, yeah

Well, nobody likes the way I talk
So I went out and I took a walk
I decided I'd go to some institution
Get them to teach me elocution
How now, brown cow?
Right now, green bull

I was down in the hen house, down on my knees
When I thought I heard a chicken sneeze
But it was only the rooster sayin' his prayers
Thankin′ the Lord for the hens upstairs
What with roosters a-prayin′, hens a-layin'
Hmmm, little pullets just pluggin′ away the best they know how