If I Hock My Guitar

I came up from Mississippi
With a guitar full of songs
Thought I was really something
Maybe I was wrong
Got to make some money
Got to pay my dues
'Cause if I hock my guitar
How the hell am I supposed to play the blues?
Filled out an application
For sweeping up the streets
They said I didn’t qualify
I couldn’t disagree
I got to find something
Something I can use
If I hock my guitar
Aw, hell, man
I can do without the honey or the sugar for my tea
These days I can do without a lot of things
My shark-skin suit and my Stacy Adams shoes
All I really want to do is play my blues
Had my last can of tuna
With some cold green beans
Not all that appetizing
But a man’s got to eat
Up against the wall
Nothing left to lose
If I hock my guitar
How the hell am I supposed play the blues?