He awaits him, at the crossroads,
Where the witches rendezvous,
Where the tumbleweed's the only thing that moves,
But the dark will move you too.

For 8 weeks straight he travelled,
Reading tales of Robert J,
Wonderin' if what's said is true,
and if he could find a way.

Where so many men have tried before,
So many men had failed,
Except that bluesman long ago,
who stood firm as the dark wind hailed.

Now standing as strong as a man can stand,
With a song in his soul and guitar in his hand,
He awaits the man the stories said will patrol.

As the hour hits 12 a black man will approach,
No life does surround, not a cricket nor roach,
No one will witness the bequeathing of ones soul.

The story says at the dead of night,
You take your guitar and play a tune
the man in black, takes it an' retunes
n' plays piece that melts the moon.

When this demon passes back,
That thing you yearn to play,
You're fingers they feel nimble now,
But your soul is gone away.

As he waits he sees a force,
so black it darkens the shade,
A Deity approaches, named Legba,
A demon who's too strong to fade.

Papa Legba stands there with his cane,
Under a straw hat, he smokes
Our man he waits and listens well,
As the voice of Legba croaks.

He says "Son I know just what you want,
I know just what you need,
But if you want what you deserve
You must play 'til your fingers bleed.

In life we all want things for free,
But then true value is escaped,
Worthless it is to own a village,
Plagued with thoughts of the families you raped.

If you want what you seek you must work hard,
You must chase the things you dream,
It's just my job to open the gateway,
Only you can cross between"

So with this knowledge now given,
Papa Legba turns to go.
Just leaving our man with some sound advice,
"If you water your plant, it will grow"