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Hey Mama, My Time Ain’t Long

Album: The Ruffian's Misfortune

Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard and Jonathan Tyler

Ah children let me tell you bout the songs the bluesmen sing

Comes from a woman’s moans and the squeaks of guitar strings

Some say it’s the devil jingling the coins in his pockets

I say it sounds more like a pistol when you cock it

 

Aw mama I believe my time ain’t long

Aw mama I believe my time ain’t long

 

Ah children let me tell you about the songs the angels sing

In the back alleys of heaven with regret and broken wings

Some sing about the holy, pray and bow their heads

Some sing smokestack lightning and light up Marlborough reds

 

Aw mama I believe my time ain’t long

Aw mama I believe my time ain’t long

 

Now there are tramps in Paris dressed in Brussels lace

And sailors in Baltimore who have fallen from grace

And there’s some shovels and rope that’ll never get clean

And there is the faithful singing sister morphine

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