Cabell "Cab" Calloway III (December 25, 1907 – November 18, 1994) was an American jazz singer and bandleader. He was strongly associated with the Cotton Club in Harlem, New York City, where he was a regular performer. more »
Dark folk, white folk, but never a hand,
They say to this man,
"You're yaller, you're yaller, you're yaller, you're just a yaller."
Black folk, white folk, I'm learning a lot,
You know what I am, I know what I'm not,
Ain't even black, I ain't even white,
I ain't like the day and I ain't like the night.
Feeling mean, so inbetween, I'm just a high yaller.
Ain't even bad, I ain't even good,
I don't understand and I ain't understood,
Not a friend sticks to the end when you're yaller.
Take me to a church and make me pray,
Make me sing a psalm there;
You better leave my soul in a crude cafe,
I don't even belong there.
Oh Lord, can't you make a sinner a saint,
Why did you start me but run out of paint,
Pass me by, a no-'count yellow man.
Lord only knows, I'm trying to rest,
I want to be down with a load on my chest.
Make my bed; wish I were dead,
A yaller man.
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe. If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
You need to be logged in to favorite.
or fill the form below
Create a new account
Use the citation below to add these lyrics to your bibliography: