Well, now listen people
Let me tell you some news
I'll sing a song
Called the crude oil blues
We're low on heat and oil
We're low on gas
And I'm so cold
I'm about to freeze myself
We got the crude oil blues
Cause the wintertime sure gets cold
To the bottom of my shoes
Well, my hands are shaking
And my knees are weak
But it ain't because of love
It's from the lack of heat
I've got the crude oil blues
I'm gonna tell you a story
About this drunk I knew
He kept his basement
Full of homemade brew
But the winter got so bad
It screwed up the boy's thinking
He got so cold
He had to burn all his drinking
He's got the crude oil blues
He said the wintertime can sure get cold
To the bottom of your shoes
He said, "Burning this booze
Just destroys my soul
But there's one thing about it, honey
When you're cold you're cold
I've got the crude oil blues"
Well, when we made this record
There was a little bit of doubt
Whether or not the thing
Was ever gonna come out
I said, "Hey, chief
You reckon this record will be released?"
He said, "Son, we ain't got enough oil
To keep the presses greased
We got the crude oil blues
And son if we can't make records
Then we don't need you"
I said, "Well, what am I gonna do
If I can't sing and pick?"
He said, "Well, just keep yourself warm
Playing all them hot licks"
We got the crude oil blues
Oh, mama, don't forget
To bring in the brass monkey
And remember what Albert Winestein said
That cooling is conducive to cuddling
Honey, I love you
But pass the duck down
Hey, I read a sign on the pump
At my favorite gas station yesterday
It said, "He who expecteth nothing
Ain't gonna be deceived"