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🕊
- Author: W.J.G.🕊 (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: November 5th, 2021 08:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: FallenAngel1🕊
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