Robert Johnson Meets Satan🎸

FallenAngel1🕊

Its 1930,i'm sitting in a bar

through a smoke stained window,a Model T,..when a car was just a car.

I'm down in the Delta,known as the land of the blues

its said to be their birthplace,where all today's musicians really owe their dues.

 

The entertainment walks in,it's a one man show,

just himself,his guitar and a harmonica in his pocket he may on a whim,pull out and blow.

I'm running on empty,to the hooch-stand I head,

barkeep another triple! That's right,you heard what I said.

 

So back to my table in a dark corner I go,to get ready for this one man show.

The young man is great,with great skill but knows there is more,

he see's me in my corner,and I can see he's looking to score,

so i give him a sign,to let him know I see,

if it's Satan your looking for,well that would be me.

 

He asks if it's true,do I really buy souls?

Well Mr.Johnson,it's coming upon midnight,

how fast can you get to the nearest crossroads?

  Written by;W.J.Gerhardt🕊



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.