Furry Sings The Blues - Joni Mitchell

    Old Beale Street is coming down
    Sweeties' Snack Bar, boarded up now
    And Egles The Tailor and the Shine Boy's gone
    Faded out with ragtime blues
    Handy's cast in bronze
    And he's standing in a little park
    With a trumpet in his hand
    Like he's listening back to the good old bands
    And the click of high heeled shoes
    Old Furry sings the blues
    Propped up in his bed
    With his dentures and his leg removed
    And Ginny's there
    For her kindness and Furry's beer
    She's the old man's angel overseer

    Pawn shops glitter like gold tooth caps
    In the grey decay
    They chew the last few dollars off
    Old Beale Street's carcass
    Carrion and mercy
    Blue and silver sparkling drums
    Cheap guitars, eye shades and guns
    Aimed at the hot blood of being no one
    Down and out in Memphis Tennessee
    Old Furry sings the blues
    You bring him smoke and drink and he'll play for you
    lt's mostly muttering now and sideshow spiel
    But there was one song he played
    I could really feel

    There's a double bill murder at the New Daisy
    The old girl's silent across the street
    She's silent - waiting for the wrecker's beat
    Silent - staring ar her stolen name
    Diamond boys and satin dolls
    Bourbon laughter- ghosts - history falls
    To parking lots and shopping malls
    As they tear down old Beale Street
    Old Furry sings the blues
    He points a bony finger at you and
    "I don't like you"
    Everybody laughs as if it's the old man's standard joke
    But it's true
    We're only welcome for our drink and smoke

    W.C. Handy I'm rich and I'm fay
    And I'm not familiar with what you played
    But I get such strong impressions of your hey day
    Looking up and down old Beale Street
    Ghosts of the darktown society
    Come right out of the bricks at me
    Like it's a Saturday night
    They're in their finery
    Dancing it up and making deals
    Furry sings the blues
    Why should I expect that old guy to give it to me true
    Fallen to hard luck
    And time and other thieves
    While our limo is shining on his shanty street
    Old Furry sings the blues

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words