Down went from Pigtown, wrecks in the yard 
Scream out the song just finish the job 
Telephone poles slowly weep in the pitch 
The butcher's brow sweat runs back down the ditch 

A great place to visit, a better place to leave 
False poison sumac, lies on the heave 
Weather veins beat over the motoring of shutters 
The Pigtown blues run deep down the gutters 

The skies are heavy Abram 
Block after block after block 

All across the marsh trees, harshly accused 
Pointing black fingers most broke with abuse 
High-tension wires, blush in the breeze 
Men have their conscience, while dogs have their fleas 

Cyclops winks as he sinks to the soil 
Labor in vain, labor in toil 
The residents succumb to the shadows and sticks 
The Pigtown blues run right through the bricks 

The skies are heavy Abram 
Block after block after block 
The skies are heavy Abram 
Block after block after block 

The skies are heavy Abram 
Block after block after block 
The skies are heavy Abram 
Block after block after block