Southern Can Mama

Blind Willie McTellBlind Willie Mc… 

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Blind Willie McTell

Blind Willie McTell (born William Samuel McTier May 5, 1898 – August 19, 1959), was a Piedmont and ragtime blues singer and guitarist. He played with a fluid, syncopated fingerstyle guitar technique, common among many exponents of Piedmont blues, although, unlike his contemporaries, he came to exclusively use twelve-string guitars. McTell was also an adept slide guitarist, unusual among ragtime bluesmen. His vocal style, a smooth and often laid-back tenor, differed greatly from many of the harsher voice types employed by Delta bluesmen, such as Charlie Patton. McTell embodied a variety of musical styles, including blues, ragtime, religious music, and hokum. more »

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Now looka here mama let me tell you this
If you wants to get crooked I'm gonna give you my fist
You might read from Revelations back to Genesee
But if you get crooked, your southern can belongs to me

Ain't no need you bringin' no jive to me
Cause your southern can is mine
Might go uptown have me arrested and have me put in jail
Some hotshot got money come and throw my bail
Soon as I get out, hit the ground
Your southern can worth two dollar, half a pound

Ain't no need of bringing no stuff to me
Cause your southern can is mine
You might take it from the south you might carry it up north
But understand you can't rule or either be my boss
Take it from the east, hide it in the west
When I get it mama, your can won't see no rest

Ain't no need of bringing no stuff to me
Cause your southern can is mine
(In the morning)
Your southern can belongs to me
(I'm not dreamin')
Your southern can belongs to me
Ah ashes to ashes mama, and sin to sin
Every time I hit you you'll think I've got a dozen hands
Give you a punch through that barb-wire fence
Every time I hit you you'll say I've got no sense

Ain't no need of bringing no stuff to me
Cause your southern can is mine
(Every bit of it)
Southern can belongs to me
Get me a brick out of my backyard
Give you the devil if you get kinda hard

Ain't no need of bringing no jive here honey
Cause your southern can is mine
(You hear me cryin)
Southern can belongs to me
Spank it a little bit, boy

Ah, your southern can is mine
Now if I catch ya mama down in the heart of town
Take me a bran-new brick and tear your can on down

Ain't no need you bringin' no stuff to me
Because your southern can belongs to me
(I'm talkin' to ya)
Your southern can belongs to me
You may be deathbed sick and mama and graveyard bound
I'll make your can moan like a hound

Ain't no need you bringin' no stuff to me
Because your southern can is mine
(You hear me talkin')
Southern can belongs to me

Oh spank it like that
The way Ruthie Mae likes it

Cause your southern can is mine
Sit there unsteady with your eyes all red
What I said get your grandma dead

Ain't no need of bringing no jive to me
Cause your southern can is mine
You got to stop your barkin and raising the deuce
I'll grab you mama and turn every way but loose

Ain't no need of bringing no jive here honey
Cause your southern can belongs to me
(Every bit of it)
Southern can belongs to me

Aww, whup it boy, that's the way the people like that thing
Ain't no need of bringing no jive here honey
Cause your southern can is mine
(You hear me talkin')
Your southern can belongs to me
Might twiddle like a tadpole
Let it jump like a frog
Every time I hit it you'll holler
God oh God

Ain't no need of bringing no jive here honey
Cause your southern can is mine
(You hear me talkin')
Southern can belongs to me
Now play it a little bit, just whup it
Aww shucks. Play that thing boy
Southern can belo-ongs to me

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