Say, that boy's a wonderment
No, the kid's a freak
But that kid he don't care none
His black hands resting on the keys
Hopping like a big old frog
And hissing like a train
Entertaining royalty
All points east, west and in between

General he's a fine old man
Treat him like his own
Boy wouldn't know from money
Just throw old Blind Tom a bone
From the times of King Cotton
May we present to you
All you Jim Crow monkeys
From Harlan County down to Tuscaloo

Cocks that old big head aside
Grunts a word or two
Keeps 'em guessing every night
Is he really gonna make it through
Faint hearts with their fans out
Starched collars and cigars
He weren't no use for slaving
I wouldn't want him in my yard