Panic is on
What this country is coming to
Some would like to know
If they don't do something bye and bye
The rich will live and the poor will die
Doggone, I mean the panic is on
Can't get work, can't draw no pay,
Things are worse, each day.
Nothing to eat, no place to sleep,
All night long folks are walking the street.
Saw a man this morning, walking down the street,
No shoes on his feet.
You oughta seen the women in their flats,
You could hear'em saying, "What kinda man is that?"
All them landlords done raised the rent,
Folks are badly bent.
Where they gets the dough from, goodness knows,
But if they don't produce it-in the street they go...
Some play numbers, some read your mind,
Rackets of all kinds.
Some trimming corns offa people's feet,
They gotta do something to make ends meet...
Some women selling apples, some selling pie,
Selling gin and rye.
Some are selling socks to support their man,
In fact, some are selling everything they can.
I've pawned clothes, pawned my everything
Pawned my watch and ring.
Pawned my razor but not my gun,
So if luck don't change, there'll be some stealing done.
Old Prohibition's ruined everything,
That's why I must sing.
Here's one thing I want you all to hear:
'Til they bring back light wine, gin and beer,
Doggone-the panic will be on,
Printed in Silverman, American History Songbook