Down the bottom of market street

Where marks and Spencer meet

 On a corner

In a warm day in April

Sits a man

Under a large umbrella

His badge of office

His shades

A guitar on his chest

His nimble fingers

Run up and down the fret

Sliding down the neck

His voice rasps out

Shame into the day

A harmonica at his side

He sits a rolling and a rocking

Ready to take anybody

Who will listen

On a solid

R and B ride

 

The steady beat

Relentless catching

People shuffling

Dancing

Past his chair

Smiling and nodding

Some who stop

And find themselves clapping

As he taps his feet

And bounces in his seat

This hootchie cootchie man

Keeps the blues alive

Turning up the heat