Hesitating Blues - Frank Fairfield

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Hesitating Blues Lyrics

Been over the river and I've been over the sea
Called on a woman who wouldn't have me
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

Well it floats up the river and it won't come down
[] water bound
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

It snows in the winter it rains in the fall
No good rabbit's come along at all
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

Well it's a five dollar note and my feet on the ground
But I lost me a woman when the train left town
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

Lived in the country, lived in the town
No good women's gonna throw me down
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

Had a ring on her finger laying on a feather bed
Now cold [] where you lay your head
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

I'll stand on the corner with a dollar in my hand
Just looking for a woman ain't got no man
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

Well, the hesitatin' stalker's got them hesitatin' shoes
Lord, I got them Hesitatin' Blues
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

Born in the valley and raised on the hill
Had a taste for ramblin' and I'm ramblin' still
Tell me how long have I got to wait
Can I get you know or do I have to hesitate

Lyrics provided by LyricsEver.com

You can call him a traditionalist. But we wont. You can call him nostalgic. But we wont.

He is Frank Fairfield. A musician. A Banjo picker. A fiddle hummer. A song singer. We’ve heard him described as someone who was discovered at a farmers market out in California, as if he were some long lost treasure or mythical land. As we see it, it isn’t some deep yearning for a time long forgotten that drives Frank Fairfield, he isn’t trying to be something that no longer exists, because in fact, he DOES exist. The music he plays, creates, performs is the music that carried all of us, from all over the world, to the place (wherever that place may be) we are now. He plays the American landscape, the one he himself sees and experiences. He goes about it with the only tools necessary, as any good craftsman would. Its not some ship filled with Spanish doubloons, or some ancient Amazon city of Gold, its Frank Fairfield. A musician. A Banjo picker. A man not competing with time, only living in his own. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.

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Frank Fairfield