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Swang

de Arthur Young

Well, that mean old, mean old frisco,
And that low down santa fe
Well, that mean old frisco, and that low down santa fe
Well it carried my baby away, and it's blown right back on me
I was standing, i was listening, for that southern
Whistle blow
I was standing and listening for that southern whistle to blow
Lord, she did not catch the southern, and now where do you suppose that woman might have gone?
Well, then i ain't, i ain't got no, got no special
Rider
Here, lord
I ain't got no special rider here
Well, i think i leave, 'cause i don't feel welcome
Well, my mama she done told me, and my papa told me, too
Well, my mama she done told me, and my papa told me, too
Everybody grins in your face son, well, they ain't no friends of yours

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