I was sitting in my classroom the other day Playing my harmonica in a mellow way A teacher seemed to have gathered 'round Trying to figure out what I was putting down
I call it pretty music music But the old people call it the blues
They were looking at me sitting there all alone Mumbling to each other in a real low tone I couldn't figure out what they were saying They couldn't understand what I was playing
I call it pretty music music But the old people call it the blues
Well I call it pretty music music But the old people call it the blues
I call it pretty music music But the old people call it the blues
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