Hey Jim Tampa, hey Jim Tampa
Hey Jim Tampa, you treat your woman so mean
You treat your tommies like a woman you ain't never seen

Womens all know my man, call him Mister Tampa Long
(Why shouldn't they call me? They know my name)
Womens all know my man, call him Mister Tampa Long
He made so much money, women, when the weather was warm
(Ah no, I ain't made no money in my life)

My man's got five womens, I can call them by their natural names
He's got five womens, call them by their natural names
(Lord, I don't know how they do it)
And all them repeaters sound just the same
(I ain't just the same, though, no, no)

It must be a black cat bone, jomo can't work that hard
(Oh, what is a jomo anyhow? Tell me)
It must be a black cat bone, jomo can't work that hard
(What kind of a thing is it?)
Every time I wake up, Jim Tampa's in my yard

I can stand right here, five miles down the road
I can stand right here, five miles down the road
Yeah, to get in the way Jim Tampa used to go


Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher

Jim Tampa Blues song meanings
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