Tipo de gaita: Diatônica
Tom: qualquer
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Well, you wake up in the mornin',
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You hear the work bell ring,
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And they march you to the ta-ble,
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To see the same old thing.
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Ain't no food u-pon the table,
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Aint no pork up in the pan.
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But you better not complain, boy,
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You get in trouble with the man.
CHORUS
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Let the Midnight Special,
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Shine a light on me,
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Let the Midnight Special,
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Shine a light on me,
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Let the Midnight Special,
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Shine a light on me,
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Let the Midnight Special,
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Shine a e--verlo-vin' light on me.
Yonder come miss Rosie,
How in the world did you know?
By the way she wears her apron,
And the clothes she wore.
Umbrella on her shoulder,
Piece of paper in her hand;
She come to see the gov'nor,
She wants to free her man.
CHORUS
If you're ever in Houston,
Well, you better do the right;
You better not gamble,
You better not fight,
Or the sheriff he'll grab ya,
And the boys will bring you down.
The next thing you know, boy,
Oh! You're prison bound.
CHORUS
CHORUS
