Heptune presents:Photo of Cab Calloway



Transcribed from Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, recorded November 12, 1930.
From Cab Calloway and His Orchestra 1930-1931; The Chronogical Classics 516.

Dark folk, white folk, but never a hand,
They say to this man,
"You're yaller, you're yaller, you're yaller, you're just a yaller."

Black folk, white folk, I'm learning a lot,
You know what I am, I know what I'm not,

Ain't even black, I ain't even white,
I ain't like the day and I ain't like the night.
Feeling mean, so inbetween, I'm just a high yaller.

Ain't even bad, I ain't even good,
I don't understand and I ain't understood,
Not a friend sticks to the end when you're yaller.

Take me to a church and make me pray,
Make me sing a psalm there;
You better leave my soul in a crude cafe,
I don't even belong there.

Oh Lord, can't you make a sinner a saint,
Why did you start me but run out of paint,
Pass me by, a no-'count yellow man.

Lord only knows, I'm trying to rest,
I want to be down with a load on my chest.
Make my bed; wish I were dead,
A yaller man.

Note: Cab Calloway's rendition of this piece is obviously an imitation of Al Jolson.

Return to the Works of Cab Calloway.
Return to the Heptune Jazz and Blues Lyrics Page.

Published 12/5/98.

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