My mama done tol’ me when I was in kneepants,
My mama done tol’ me, “Son! A woman’ll sweet talk
and give you the big eye.
But when the sweet talkin’ done,
A woman’s a two–face, a worrisome thing
Who’ll leave you to sing the blues in the night.”
Now the rain’s a–fallin’, hear the train a–callin’,
“Whoo–ee!” My mama done tol’ me.
Hear that lonesome whistle blowin’ ’cross the trestle,
“Whoo–ee!” My mama done tol’ me.
A whoo–ee, duh–whoo–ee,
Ol’ clickety clack’s a–echoin’ back the blues in the night.

The evenin’ breeze’ll start the trees to cryin’
And the moon’ll hide its light
When you get the blues in the night
Take my word, the mockin’bird’ll
Sing the saddest kind of song.
He knows things are wrong, and he’s right. [whistle]

From Natchez to Mobile, from Memphis to St. Joe
Wherever the four winds blow
I been in some big towns and heard me some big talk
But there is one thing I know:
A woman’s a two–face, a worrisome thing
Who’ll leave you to sing the blues in the night.
[hum]
My mama was right, there’s blues in the night.