I came up from Mississippi With a guitar full of songs Thought I was really something Maybe I was wrong Got to make some money Got to pay my dues 'Cause if I hock my guitar How the hell am I supposed to play the blues? Filled out an application For sweeping up the streets They said I didn't qualify I couldn't disagree I got to find something Something I can use If I hock my guitar Aw, hell, man I can do without the honey or the sugar for my tea These days I can do without a lot of things My shark-skin suit and my Stacy Adams shoes All I really wanna do is playing my blues Had my last can of tuna With some cold green beans Not all that appetizing But a man's got to eat Up against the wall Nothing left to lose If I hock my guitar How the hell am I supposed play the blues? Aw, man Aww