I was sitting in my classroom the other day
Playing my harmonica in a mellow way
A teacher seemed to have gathered 'round
Trying to figure out what I was putting down
I call it pretty music
But the old people call it the blues
They were looking at me sitting there all alone
Mumbling to each other in a real low tone
I couldn't figure out what they were saying
They couldn't understand what I was playing
I call it pretty music music
But the old people call it the blues
Well I call it pretty music music
But the old people call it the blues
I call it pretty music music
But the old people call it the blues

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