[Verse] Children let me tell you bout the songs the bluesmen sings Comes from a womans moans and the squeaks of guitar strings Some say its the devil jingling the coins in his pockets I say it sounds more like a pistol when you cock it [Chorus] Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long [Verse] Ah children let me tell you about the songs the angels sing In the alleys of heaven with regret and broken wings Some sing about the holy, pray and bow their heads Some sing smokestack lightnin and light up Marlborough reds [Chorus] Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long [Verse] Now theres tramps in Paris dressed in Brussels lace And sailors in Baltimore who have fallen from grace And theres some shovels and rope thatll never get clean And theres the faithful singing sister morphine See Ray Wylie Hubbard LiveGet tickets as low as 57You might also like[Chorus] Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long Hey, mama, I believe my time aint long
mama, hey, believe, long, time