Ghost of The Blues
written by: Richard Wall
@writinblues
Walkin’ dusty roads forever
Wanderin’ cross the Delta land
A mojo in my pocket
and a guitar in my hand
I know poverty and hardship
Dark misery and shame
There’s none who’d never heard of me
You surely know my name
I was there at the crossroads
That day the wind blew cold
I watched him make the deal
And the Devil bought his soul
Poor boy in Mississippi
Nowhere else to go but up
Strumming guitar on street corners
For loose change in an old tin cup
That’s blues, delta blues
Yeah, that’s blues ghost of the blues
Some who preached my message
Found glory, wealth and fame
And some fall by the wayside
Dying early in my name
Poor boy in Mississippi
Nowhere else to go but up
Strumming guitar on street corners
For loose change in an old tin cup
That’s blues, delta blues
Yeah, that’s blues ghost of the blues
Richard’s stories reflect his life-long fascination with the dark underbelly of American culture, be it tales of the Wild West, or of the simmering menace of the Deep South, or the poetry of Charles Bukowski, or the writing of Langston Hughes, or the music of Charley Patton, Son House, Johnny Cash, or Tom Waits.
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