Ninety-Nine Year Blues

Bring me my pistol, three rounds of ball

I'm gonna kill everybody whopped the poor boy along

Poor boy along, poor boy along, poor boy along

On a Monday I was arrested, on a Tuesday I was tried

And the judge found me guilty and I hung my head and cried

Lord, and cried, Lord, and cried, Lord, and cried, Lord, and cried

Says, I asked the judge what would be my fine

Says, "A pick and a shovel way down Joe Brown's coal mine."

Coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine

"Be light on me, judge, I ain't been here before

"Give you ninety-nine years, don't come back here no more."

No more, no more, no more, no more, my Lord

"Be light on me, judge, ain't been here before."

"Give you ninety-nine years, don't come back here no more."

No more, no more, no more, my Lord, no more