Do you know me? ..
Of course you do! ..
Though maybe you haven"t seen me in a little while
I"m that drum beat comin" through your car radio
And I"m that thumpin" bass that drags you along with the rhythm
I"m that part of music that makes you wanna dance
I"m a pure gospel song issuing forth from a Sunday morning church house
Jesus! .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus ..Jesus!
I"m a happy crystal ring of a high mountain fiddle
I"m the blues at midnight oozing out of a back street honky-tonk
I"m draw my nourishment from the teeming streets of New York City
The lonely grain covered plains of Minnesota
From cabaret and camp meeting, and bayou and beer joint and good times and ghettos
I was born in a house of New Orleans travelling up the river on the North bound paddle leaders
I was nurtured in the Mississippi delta when seeds of the blues sprang forth in the rich black soil
I was there when Elvis learned to sing, when BB got his first guitar
I"m black and white and smooth and rough and hard and soft
I"m the roots of American music
And I"m always there just the local service
And when the chaff of trend and bad is swept aside
I"m exposed again
Strong, pulsating and very much alive
The winds of change may blow the tree away
But the roots remain, then, now and until the end
Of course you do! ..
Though maybe you haven"t seen me in a little while
I"m that drum beat comin" through your car radio
And I"m that thumpin" bass that drags you along with the rhythm
I"m that part of music that makes you wanna dance
I"m a pure gospel song issuing forth from a Sunday morning church house
Jesus! .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus .. Jesus ..Jesus!
I"m a happy crystal ring of a high mountain fiddle
I"m the blues at midnight oozing out of a back street honky-tonk
I"m draw my nourishment from the teeming streets of New York City
The lonely grain covered plains of Minnesota
From cabaret and camp meeting, and bayou and beer joint and good times and ghettos
I was born in a house of New Orleans travelling up the river on the North bound paddle leaders
I was nurtured in the Mississippi delta when seeds of the blues sprang forth in the rich black soil
I was there when Elvis learned to sing, when BB got his first guitar
I"m black and white and smooth and rough and hard and soft
I"m the roots of American music
And I"m always there just the local service
And when the chaff of trend and bad is swept aside
I"m exposed again
Strong, pulsating and very much alive
The winds of change may blow the tree away
But the roots remain, then, now and until the end