Birth of the Blues

Oh . . . they say some people long ago,
 Were searchin' for a diff'rent tune,
 One that they could croon,
 As only they can . . .
 They only had the rhythm . . . so,
 They started swayin' to and fro . . .
 They didn't know just what to use,
 That is how the blues,
 Really began . . .
 They heard the breeze in the trees,
 Singin' weird melodies,
 And they made that,
 The start of the blues!
 And from a jail came the wail,
 Of a down-hearted frail,
 And they played that,
 As part of the blues!
 From a whippoorwill out on the hill,
 They took a new note (whippoorwill, whippoorwill, whippoorwill . . .)
 Pushed it through a horn 'till it was worn,
 Into a blue note . . . (whippoorwill, whippoorwill, whippoorwill . . .)
 An' then they nursed it, and rehearsed it,
 And gave out the news,
 That the "Southland" . . .
 Gave birth to the blues!
 (Shout out the wonderful news!)
 Oh, the breeze from the trees,
 A wail from the jail,
 A buzz from the cousin of a nightin'gale,
 And "Southland" (hello, hello!)
 Gave birth to the blues!