Hello, Satan

Robert Johnson (1911 - 1938) was murdered at the age of 27, poisoned by strychnine in his whisky. He is considered a god by some, he was certainly the definitive figure in early blues. Keith Richards, Bob Dylan and Eric Clapton acknowledge that Johnson changed their lives and the songs and music that they would later produce.



Hello, Satan


Early this mornin'
when you knocked upon my door
Early this mornin', ooh
when you knocked upon my door
And I said, "Hello, Satan,
I believe it's time to go."


Robert Johnson
from Me and the Devil Blues

-----

Greenwood, Mississippi, sleepy town,
Until the bluesmen drifted in.
They'd be playing after sundown,
Drinking moonshine and bathtub gin.

The Three Forks juke joint was thumping,
Saturday, July '38.
The jitterbuggers were jumping;
Robert Johnson would be playing late.

In a graveyard he learned to play;
Sat on a tombstone, wailed the blues.
Or, at the crossroads, some would say,
Satan cast a spell, stole his shoes.

Handsome, Robert loved the women,
He loved music and whisky too.
When he loved the wife of the houseman,
His earthly playing days were through.

Sonny Boy Williamson was near.
"Don't drink from an open flask," he said.
Robert, annoyed, refused to hear;
Three days later he was dead.

Where he’s buried we’re not quite sure;
Maybe, down near Highway Seven.
Blues he played were sweet and pure.
Does he play in hell, or heaven?

-----

You may bury my body
down by the highway side
spoken: Baby, I don't care where you bury my
body when I'm dead and gone
You may bury my body, ooh
down by the highway side
So my old evil spirit
can catch a Greyhound bus and ride


Robert Johnson
from Me and the Devil Blues