| Mama said, «Don't go near that river
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| Don’t be hanging around old Catfish John.»
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| Come in the morning I’d always be there
|
| Walking in his footsteps in the sweet Delta dawn
|
| Take me back to another morning, to a time so long ago
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| When the sweet magnolia blossomed, cotton fields as white as snow
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| Catfish John was a river hobo who lived and died by the river’s bed
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| Looking back I still remember I was proud to be his friend
|
| Mama said, «Don't go near that river
|
| Don’t be hanging around old Catfish John.»
|
| Come in the morning I’d always be there
|
| Walking in his footsteps in the sweet Delta dawn
|
| Born a slave in the town of Vicksburg, traded for a chestnut mare
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| Lord her never spoke in anger though his load was hard to bear
|
| Mama said, «Don't go near that river
|
| Come in the morning I’d always be there
|
| Walking in his footsteps in the sweet Delta dawn
|
| Walking in his footsteps in the sweet Delta dawn |