| Well, you wake up in the mornin', you hear the work bell ring,
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| And they march you to the table to see the same old thing.
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| Ain’t no food upon the table, and no pork up in the pan.
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| But you better not complain, boy, you get in trouble with the man.
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| CHORUS:
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| Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me,
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| Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me,
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| Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me,
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| Let the Midnight Special shine a everlovin' light on me.
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| Yonder come miss Rosie, how in the world did you know?
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| By the way she wears her apron, and the clothes she wore.
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| Umbrella on her shoulder, piece of paper in her hand;
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| She come to see the gov’nor, she wants to free her man.
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| CHORUS
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| If you’re ever in Houston, well, you better do the right;
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| You better not gamble, there, you better not fight, at all
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| Or the sheriff will grab ya and the boys will bring you down.
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| The next thing you know, boy, Oh! |
| You’re prison bound.
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| CHORUS
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| CHORUS |