I was born by the Mississippi River,
Lived in a small, tin, rusty shack.
Made some money choppin' cotton,
The sun beating down on my back.
Me and Daddy fished the river,
A bamboo pole with a fishin' line,
On the banks of the Mississippi River,
Down by the county line.
Daddy, he cut lumber,
Carried it on his back,
He built us a log cabin,
No more small, tin, rusty shack.
Momma she was always home,
A smile always on her face,
She cooked us grits and fixins,
Daddy he said Grace.
One day, Daddy had a gift for me,
A dented, battered horn,
I practiced under the ole' oak tree,
That was the day, the blues were born.
Music flowed up from my soul,
My heart played through that horn.
I played for Momma and Daddy,
On each bright, quiet Sunday morn'.
One day, I took my horn to school,
My teacher asked me if I would play.
I played sweet notes, from the ole soft blues,
The class began to sway.
Ten years past, I have a brand new horn,
My music is so sweet,
Now, I play with Louie Armstrong's Band,
Thank you, Daddy, my life's complete.
Philip Lore
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/down-on-the-mississippi-river/
