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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ST. LOUIS BLUES, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I hate to see de ev'nin' sun go down
Last Line: If my blues don't get you my jazzing must.
Alternate Author Name(s): Handy, W. C.
Subject(s): Blues (mood); Music & Musicians


I hate to see de ev'nin' sun go down,
Hate to see de ev' sun go down,
'Cause my baby, he done lef dis town.

Feelin' tomorrow lak ah feel today,
Feel tomorrow lak ah fee; today,
I'll pack my trunk, make ma gitaway.

St. :Louis woman, wid her dimon' rings,
Pulls dat man roun' by her apron strings.
'Twant for powder an' for store-bought hair,
De man ah love would not gone nowhere, nowhere.

Got de St. Louis Blues jes as blue as ah can be,
Dat man got a heart lak a rock cast in the sea,
Or else he wouldn't have gone so far from me.

Been to de Gypsy to get ma fortune tole,
To de Gypsy to get ma fortune tole,
'Cause I'm most wile 'bout my Jelly Roll.

Gypsy done tole me, "Don't you wear no black."
Yes, she done tole me, "Don't you wear no black,
Go to St. Louis. You can win him back."

Help me to Cairo, make St. Louis by maself,
Git to Cairo, find ma ole friend Jeff.
Gwine to pin maself close to his side,
If ah flag his train, I sho' can ride.

I loves dat man lak a schoolboy loves his pie,
Lak a Kentucky Co'nel loves his mint an' rye,
I'll love ma baby till the day ah die.

You ought to see dat stovepipe brown of mine,
Lak he owns de Dimon Joseph line,
He'd make a cross-eyed 'oman go stone blin'.

Blacker than midnight, teeth lak flags of truce,
Blackest man in de whole St. Louis,
Blacker de berry, sweeter am de juice.

About a crap game, he knows a pow'rful lot,
But when work-time comes, he's on de dot.
Gwine ask him for a cold ten-spot,
What it takes to git it, he's cert'nly got.

A black-headed gal makes a freight train jump the track,
Said a black-headed gal makes a freight train jump the track,
But a long tall gal makes a preacher ball the Jack.

Lawd, a blonde-headed woman makes a good man leave the town,
I said blonde-headed woman makes a good man leave the town,
But a red-headed woman makes a boy slap his papa down.

Oh ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
I said ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
If my blues don't get you my jazzing must.





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