Robert Johnson

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 In the year of thirty-six,
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in the town of San Antone
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 a young man in a hotel room
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stared down a microphone.
Em      D
He sang each song once,
    Bm            C
and sang it once again.
    Em                    D
And each song come from a hole 
inside
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where a soul once had been.

Em            D
Those records made the jukes,
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all throughout the southland.
Em           D
Pretty women wondered,
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was he charmed or was he damned?
Em            D
Look over his shoulder,
          Bm                 C
was there something there he feared?
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     Em   Em       D
Turn your back for just one second,
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the man disappeared.

Em        D
Word came through Saint Louis,
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up through Chicago
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All the way to New York City
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where the blues just come and go
Em               D
Someone took his picture once
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and the angels stopped and cried.
       Em          D
In his eyes it was there to see,
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he'd crossed the other side.

Em            D
In a bar on a warm spring night,
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was a man come to the door.
Em                     D
He had a bottle with a broken label,
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Robert seen his face before.
Em                   D
He said, "This is my very best.
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Drink it down, drink it slow.
                 D
When I call your name again,
    C                G
you just pack up and go."

Em          D
Was it some kind of trick,
   C               G
or did he jump the price?
Em            D
Did he find a way in Hell
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to sell his own soul twice?
          Em         D
There's a cry in the wind tonight
         Bm                 C
and only one man makes that sound...

Em              D
Baby, grab your hat and coat...
       C                 G
Robert Johnson's back in town.