| My mama don' told me,
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| When I was in pig tails,
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| My mama don' told me, Hon,
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| A man’s gonna sweet talk
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| And give you the big eye.
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| But when the sweet talk is done,
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| A man is a two face
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| A worrisome thing
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| Who’ll leave you to sing,
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| The blues in the night
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| Now the rains are fallin'
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| Hear the trains are calling
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| Whoo-ee, my mama done told me Hear that lonesome whistle
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| Blowing 'cross the trestle,
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| Whoo-ee, my mama done told me A whoo-ee-duh-whoo-ee,
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| A clickety clack,
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| So echoing back
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| The blues in the night
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| The evening breeze will start the trees to cryin'
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| And the moon will hide it’s light
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| When you get the blues in the night
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| Take my word, the mockin bird
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| Will sing the saddest kind of a song
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| He knows things are wrong
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| And he’s right
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| From Natchez to Mobile,
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| From Memphis to St. Joe,
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| Wherever the four winds blow,
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| I’ve been in some big towns,
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| An' heard me some big talk,
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| But there is one thing I know:
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| A man is a two face
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| A worrisome thing
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| He’ll leave you to sing
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| The blues in the night
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| My Mama was right
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| There’s a blues in the night |