Alan Lomax &
Alan Lomax &
Alan Lomax & BB
Alan Lomax & BB
Alan Lomax & Tangle Eye
Alan Lomax & CB
Alan Lomax & 22
Alan Lomax & 22
Alan Lomax & 22
Alan Lomax
Alan Lomax & B.A.M.A.
Alan Lomax & B.A.M.A.
Alan Lomax & 22
Alan Lomax & B.A.M.A.
Alan Lomax & Tangle Eye
Alan Lomax & B.A.M.A.
Alan Lomax
Prettiest train that I ever seen, man
Prettiest train, my lord, I ever seen
Prettiest train lord, ever seen--I declare she
Run down to Jackson, back to new Orleans
New Orleans, New Orleans--I swear she
Ran down to Jackson, back to New Orleans
What-a, will you marry, marry a railroad man (tell me, tell me tell me!)
Mattie, will you marry, a railroad man
Mattie, will you marry, a railroad man--I declare now
Every day is Sunday, dollar in your hand
In your hand, in your hand--I declare, now
Every day is Sunday with a dollar in your hand
Mattie, when you marry, don't marry no convict man
Mattie, when you marry, don't marry no convict man
Mattie, when you marry, don't marry no convict man--I declare now
Every day's Monday, a hoe-handle in your hand
In your hand, in your hand--I declare now
Every day is Monday, hoe-handle in your hand (Talk to'm, talk to'm!)
Prettiest woman, that I ever seen, yeah (Oh, Lord)
Prettiest woman that I ever seen
Prettiest woman I ever seen--I declare now
Rampart street-oh down in New Orleans
New Orleans, oh, New Orleans--I declare now
Rampart street down in New Orleans (Hold it now!)
You go to Jackson just to show your clothes
You go to Jackson just to show your clothes
You go to Jackson just to show your clothes--I declare now
I go to Jackson'a play them dicin' holes
Dicin' holes, dicin' holes--I declare now
I go to Jackson to play them dicin' holes (Talkin', talkin', talkin'!)
You go to Memphis, don't you hang around, man (No way!)
You go to Memphis, don't you hang around
You go to Memphis, don't hang around--I declare now
Police'll catch you then you workhouse bound
Workhouse bound, oh, workhouse bound--I declare now
Police'll catch you then you workhouse bound
Alan Lomax released Prettiest Train on Wed Jan 01 1958.
Alan Lomax wrote
The new ground of the prison farm is criss-crossed by drainage ditches twenty or more feet in width. In the summer they are weed-choked and here a gang of prisoners are chopping out the weeds with their hoes. The hoes swing high and bite into the green tangle all together, as if th...