Oh . . . they say some people long ago
Were searchin' for a diff'rent tune
One that they could croon
As only they can . .

They only had the rhythm . . . so
They started swayin' to and fro . .
They didn't know just what to use
That is how the blues
Really began . .

They heard the breeze in the trees
Singin' weird melodies
And they made that
The start of the blues!

And from a jail came the wail
Of a down-hearted frail
And they played that
As part of the blues!

From a whippoorwill out on the hill
They took a new note ( whippoorwill, whippoorwill, whippoorwill . . . )
Pushed it through a horn 'till it was worn
Into a blue note . . . ( whippoorwill, whippoorwill, whippoorwill . . . )
An' then they nursed it, and rehearsed it
And gave out the news
That the "Southland" . .
Gave birth to the blues!

( Shout out the wonderful news! )

Oh, the breeze from the trees
A wail from the jail
A buzz from the cousin of a nightin'gale
And "Southland" ( hello, hello! )
Gave birth to the blues!

Music by Ray Henderson