T.B. Blues

Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late It's too late, too late, too late, too late, too late Well, I'm on my way to Denver And mama, mustn't I hesitate TB's alright to have if your friends didn't treat you so low down TB's alright to have if your friends didn't treat you so low down Don't you ask 'em for no favours They even stop comin' around Mmm, TB's killin' me Mmm, TB's killin' me I'm like a prisoner, always wishin' he's free When I was up on my feet, I could not walk down the street For the men's lookin' at me from my head to my feet But oh now, the TB's killin' me I want my body buried in the deep blue sea Mmmm Mmmm That the tuberculosis, the consumption's killin' me