He's still dead you know.
Some things never change.
Life's been rough as a washboard
and I sure ain't ready
to use my washboard in a jug band.
Blues in the Bottle?
Ain't no reason to use bluing
to get the sheets snow-white
dried soft in the wind -
no one but me to enjoy them.
Ain't worth the trouble now.
He'd sure be giving me a time 'bout it
if he weren't still dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Martha J. You may like to read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks