Mississippi_fred_mcdowell_you_gotta_move May 2026

So tune the wood and strike the chord,Let the slide-ring moan its prayer,For the road is long toward the Lord,And you’ve got to meet Him there.

The clock don’t care for the crown you wear,Or the silver in your hand;When the Master calls through the heavy air,You’ll leave this weary land. mississippi_fred_mcdowell_you_gotta_move

The bottleneck slides like a silver ghost,Pressing hard on the iron string,A hollow moan from the Delta coast,Where the spirit begins to sing. So tune the wood and strike the chord,Let

No use in hiding, no use in flight,The shadow’s gonna find your door;It’s a lonesome walk in the dead of night,To the golden, distant shore. Let the slide-ring moan its prayer