One for all the musicians that never got to make a recording. Just the repeated "toos" in the final verse that bothers me.
The King of the Blues
I was standing at the crossroads, when I saw the hearse roll by
Someone said it was the King of the Blues, somebody started to cry
Close behind came a Dixie band and the Saints went marching on
Then there were flowers and women in black and the King of the Blues was gone
The first time that I heard him, was down on Bourbon Street
In a bar so warm yet when he played his horn, he still turned up the heat
If he played for an hour or if he played all night, he always played our favourite songs
And there's something different about the city tonight now that the King of the Blues is gone
They say that the King lives on, through the music that he played
But that's a lie and I still cry for the records that he never made
For all those safe-bet boy-band record men, got all their attitudes wrong
And it's too late to record him now, for the King of the Blues is gone
Try to imagine a train in the night or a riverboat rollin' by
The sound of the breeze through the willow trees, the glory of an eagle's cry
Stop and listen to all you can, it'll be quiet before too long
You're already too late to hear the best now that the King of the Blues is gone