| Lyrics |
Bline Lemon Jefferson is a-coming.
Tap tap tappin with his cane.
Bline Lemon Jefferson is a-coming.
Tap tap tappin with his cane.
His last ditch lies down the road of trials
Half filled with rain.O Sycamore, Sycamore!
Stretch your arms across the storm.
Down fly two greasy brother-crows
They hop'n'bop hop'n'bop hop'n'bop
Like the tax-man come to call.
They go knock knock! Knock knock!
Hop'n'bop hop'n'bop
They slap a death-writ on his door.
Here come the Judgement train
Git on board!
And turn that big black engine home.O let's roll!
Let's roll!
Down the tunnel.
The terrible tunnel of his world.
Waiting at his final station
Like a bigger blacker third bird.O let's roll!
Let's roll!O his road is dark and lonely.
He don't drive no Cadillac.O his road is dark and holy.
He don't drive no cadillac.
If that sky serves as his eyes
Then that moons a cataract.
Let's roll!
Yeah let's roll!(
Ad lib)
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