Living the Blues

On West Esplanade there is a little place Where they once sang the blues Sung by men with shiny horns Who wore tattered shirts and shoes Their hats cocked in just that way Telling you the blues was there They didn’t need to say it Their music filled the air It licked about the sawdust floors And drifted down the streets This wailing sound That was the music of the streets And as they played their delta tunes They never lost the beat The rhythm kept in check By the tapping of their feet The horns would join that throaty sound Where brass and flesh unite And you knew that you had felt the blues For the first time in your life