Lord, I wish I could
Put these blues in a bottle
And lock ‘em up for good
It’d be aged about right by now
Have a pretty good bite and how
We could pour it out and have a taste
Be a shame to let it go to waste
That’s the real thing
Rolling round your tongue
Take a sip, have a little nip
We can cork it up when we’re done
Lord, I wish I could
Put these blues in a bottle
And lock ‘em up for good
Telephone keeps ringing
Radio keeps singing
Some forgotten song from 1963
Stirring something deep inside of me
I may never
See your face again
But I wonder if you feel this way too
When you take one on the chin
Lord, I wish I could
Put these blues in a bottle
And lock ‘em up for good
Wish I could somehow
Put these blues in a bottle
And cork the stopper down
That’s the real thing
Rolling round your tongue
Take a sip, have a little nip
We can cork it up when we’re done
Lord, I wish I could
Put these blues in a bottle
And cork ‘em up for good
Wish I could somehow
Put these blues in a bottle
And cork the stopper down
Cork the stopper down
Cork the stopper down

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