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Lyrics:
On a Clarksdale night, humid and hot When your bottle and your blues are all that you've got I didn't want to do it, but he gave me no choice I poisoned the whiskey that coated his voice Guitar on the floor and my girl on his lap So I topped off the bottle with more than a cap When you poison men with alcohol, oh the liquor gets the blame yeah And I killed Robert Johnson, just the same So I hired that colored boy to play his guitar blues To entertain the white folks and I'd pay him in booze Oh but it turned sour quickly when he went for my wife Even Sonny Boy Williamson couldn't save his life 'Don't ever knock a bottle out another man's hand' He got a slow painful ending under Mississippi land Now I'm not saying he deserved it, oh for crossing the line yeah But I killed Robert Johnson, with strychnine I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown But he's dying So I've kept my mouth shut awaiting my fate It's trapped in the history of 1938 And as the men that knew Robert all died of old age My secret grew lonelier like his music on a stage I may never tell the public the reason he's dead yeah Only the Hell Hound can pull this truth from my head I'm not saying I regret it after all of these years yeah But I killed Robert Johnson I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown But he's dying I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown But he's dying I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown But he's dying I'm lowdown, lowdown, lowdown
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