Me and the devil
For Robert Johnson and them
Me and the devil
Was walkin’ side by side
— “Me and the Devil Blues,” Robert Johnson
No dope smoking, no beer sold after 12 o’clock
Rosedale, Mississippi, Magic City Juke Joint
Mr. Johnson sings over in a corner by the bar
Sold his soul to the devil so he can play guitar
— “2 Kool 2 B 4-Gotten,” Lucinda Williams
I drank the nights through. I slumped where I sat and slept where I fell.
I sang songs of war, hard times, and heartache. Well, hummed.
Then silence. Which I liked until it got so loud I had to turn up the music to drown it out. I played the blues, mostly, the acoustic masters. Charley Patton and Skip James, Sleepy John Estes and the Mississippi Sheiks. Robert Johnson. Then I discovered electricity, and it was Elmore James and Howlin’ Wolf, it was Little Junior Parker and His Blue Flames singing about how nobody do the boogie like the Blue Flames do.
I played so much blues the devil gave his two weeks’ notice.
— from my novel COME AGAIN NO MORE (JackLeg Press, 2025)
Well, there are all manner of lesser imps and demons, Pete, but the great Satan hisself is red and scaly with a bifurcated tail, and he carries a hay fork.
— Ulysses Everett McGill, the George Clooney character, in “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”
Don’t you know the devil wears a suit and tie
Saw him driving down the 61 in early July
— “The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie,” Colter Wall
He said the nation was wicked and the time was nigh to pay. He spoke of ancient plagues and floods to come. He spoke of vengeance and retribution, the words seeming to tussle and brawl in his mouth for the right to be called his special favorite. He said the devil was real, as if to refute some recent government study or news report.
— from my novel DOG TRACK DAYS
And the doctor thinks a devil musta got you by your senses
But to live the way you please doesn’t sound like possession
— “Getting Ready to Get Down,” Josh Ritter
Was nothin’ but the devil, changed my baby’s mind
— “Devil Got My Woman,” Skip James
Ivy sang a little of the old Skip James blues, “Devil Got My Woman.” She sang, “I’d rather be the devil, than to be that woman’s man.” Ivy could sing a little blues, all down low and scratchy, but she couldn’t go up high and moan like only Skip James and some ghosts could do. Ivy was pretty sure she believed in ghosts, but it didn’t matter, really, whether she did or not: Ghosts believed in her.
— from my novel THE COLDWATER GIRL
And just last night in a bar room
I bought Robert Johnson a beer
Yeah, I know, everybody’s always
Surprised to find him here
— “Letter From Heaven,” Bill Morrissey
More on blues and the Mississippi Delta:
Robert Johnson at the polo grounds