The Faking Blues Songtext
von Papa Charlie Jackson

I got plenty of whiskey, food, home on the shelf
I got plenty of whiskey, food, home on the shelf
But I get sick and tired of going to sleep by my fakin′ self

Now, tell me, pretty mama, tell me, please don't lie
Whyn′t you tell me, pretty mama, tell me, please don't lie
Can your sweet papa stop by here or must I pass on by

I got the fakin' blues, sing ′em anywhere I please
I got the fakin′ blues, sing 'em anywhere I please
That′s the reason why give my poor heart some ease


Lord, I'm going away, mama, believe me it tain′t no stall
Lord, I'm going away, mama, believe me it tain′t no stall
'Cause I can get more women than a passenger train can haul

Lord, I'm going to the nation, marry me an Indian squaw
Lord, I′m going to the nation, marry me an Indian squaw
I′m going to raise me a family, start me an Indian War

I got the fakin' blues, sing ′em anywhere I go
I got the fakin' blues, sing ′em anywhere I go
Tell you the reason I sing 'em, my sweet mama don′t love me no more

Lord, I went to the river, took a chair, baby, sat down
Lord, I went to the river, took a chair, baby, sat down
I thought about my fakin' jelly roll and come on back to town