I was born by the Mississippi River, <br />Lived in a small, tin, rusty shack. <br />Made some money choppin' cotton, <br />The sun beating down on my back. <br /> <br />Me and Daddy fished the river, <br />A bamboo pole with a fishin' line, <br />On the banks of the Mississippi River, <br />Down by the county line. <br /> <br />Daddy, he cut lumber, <br />Carried it on his back, <br />He built us a log cabin, <br />No more small, tin, rusty shack. <br /> <br />Momma she was always home, <br /> A smile always on her face, <br />She cooked us grits and fixins, <br />Daddy he said Grace. <br /> <br />One day, Daddy had a gift for me, <br />A dented, battered horn, <br />I practiced under the ole' oak tree, <br />That was the day, the blues were born. <br /> <br />Music flowed up from my soul, <br />My heart played through that horn. <br />I played for Momma and Daddy, <br />On each bright, quiet Sunday morn'. <br /> <br />One day, I took my horn to school, <br />My teacher asked me if I would play. <br />I played sweet notes, from the ole soft blues, <br />The class began to sway. <br /> <br />Ten years past, I have a brand new horn, <br />My music is so sweet, <br />Now, I play with Louie Armstrong's Band, <br />Thank you, Daddy, my life's complete.<br /><br />Philip Lore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/down-on-the-mississippi-river/
