ERSE:



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I know a man who sings the blues



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Yeah he plays just what he feels

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Keeps a letter in the pocket of his coat

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But he never breaks the seal



Set up in a bar room corner

Playin' for tips and beer

People carryin' on and drinkin'

You gotta strain to hear



I've seen him playin' some old cheap guitar

But he could play on pots and pans

You never heard a soul so pure and true

It's flowin' right out of his hands

He can sing sweet as a choir girl

Or he can sing a house on fire

I've seen him callin' up the angels

And use a breeze for a telephone wire







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And if you ask him



F#                      Bmi

How he sings his blues so well



Bmi

He says



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I got a soul that I won't sell



G                 D

I got a soul that I won't sell



G                 D

I got a soul that I won't sell



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And I don't read postcards from hell



Says he came from down in Texas

Playin' out since he's fifteen

You can hear a little Chicago

And a lot of New Orleans

Hean take you on a freight train

He can take you down the alley

He can take you to the church

He can walk you through the valley



And if you ask him

How he sings his blues so well

He says

I got a soul that I won't sell

I got a soul that I won't sell

I got a soul that I won't sell

And I don't read postcards from hell



I've seen him sleepin' in a doorway

Maybe livin' outside

On his back just like a cockroach

But he ain't waitin' to die



And if you ask him

How he sings his blues so well

He says

I got a soul that I won't sell

I got a soul that I won't sell

I got a soul that I won't sell

And I don't read postcards from hell