Down on the corner, out in the street, Willy and the Poor Boys are playing, bring a nickel, tap your feet.
Down on the corner, out in the street, Willy and the Poor Boys are playing, bring a nickel, tap your feet.
Seven thirty seven coming out of the sky – won’t you take me down to Memphis on a midnight ride. I want to move, playing in a traveling band.
Left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day, and I never lost one minute of sleeping, worrying ‘bout the way things might have been.
I ain’t never been in trouble, I ain’t got the time. I don’t mess around with magic, child, what I got is mine.