Play, Bluesman, play.
From the smoky gin joints in sweet home Chicago.
To the city limits of Austin.
Or the grand stages of Montreux.
Deep down in the Delta.
At the crossroads.
Or Memphis.
Wherever you are.
Make her sing.
Make her cry.
Play one for Stevie.
For Johnny.
For Albert.
For B.B.
For Roy.
Low down and dirty.
Silky and smooth.
However you play it.
Play, Bluesman, play.
©The Beginning At Last
The Beginning At Last 
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