I Don't Think I Ever Sing The

You've Got To Have Something To Eat And A Little Love In Your Life Before You Can Hold Still For Any Damn Body's Sermon On How To Behave.

So I Asked Him To Play "trav'lin' All Alone." That Came Closer Than Anything To The Way I Felt. And Some Part Of It Must Have Come Across. The Whole Joint Quieted Down. If Someone Had Dropped A Pin, It Would Have Sounded Like A Bomb. When I Finished, Everybody In The Joint Was Crying In Their Beer, And I Picked Thirty-eight Bucks Up Off The Floor. . . . When I Showed Mom The Money For The Rent And Told Her I Had A Regular Job Singing For Eighteen Dollars A Week, She Could Hardly Believe It.

If I'm Going To Sing Like Someone Else, Then I Don't Need To Sing At All.

I Never Hurt Nobody But Myself And That's Nobody's Business But My Own.

The Whole Basis Of My Singing Is Feeling. Unless I Feel Something, I Can't Sing.