Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon I heard a Negro play Down on Lenox Avenue the other night By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light He did a lazy sway… He did a lazy sway… To the tune o’ those Weary Blues. With his ebony hands on each ivory key He made the poor piano moan with melody. O Blues! Swaying to a fro on his rickety stool He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool. Sweet Blues! Coming from a black man’s soul. O Blues! In the deep song voice with a melancholy tone I Heard the Negro sing, the piano moan – “Ain’t got nobody in all this world, Ain’t got nobody but ma self. I gwine to quit ma frownin’ And put my troubles on the shelf. Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then sang some more – “I got the Weary Blues And I can’t be satisfied. Got the Weary Blues And I can’t be satisfied – I ain’t happy no mo’ And I wished that I had died.” And far into the night he crooned that tune. The stars went out and so did the moon. The singer stopped playing and went to bed. While the Weary Blues echoed through his head. He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.
Is it the Weary Blues or just another Monday morning? What’s up family? In these very trying times, here’s wishing youa week of syncopated rhythms and harmonious melodies. Peace, Tenthltr2u