Mamie Neale, down in Beale,
Gave her papa the air,
Left him cold, got him told,
Like she didn't care,
Poor Joe, her beau,
Looked just like he would die,
If you would see her, you would hear her, sob this mournful cry,

Beale Street Papa, why don't you come back home?
It isn't proper to leave your mama all alone.
Sometimes I was cruel, that's true,
But your sweet mama never did two-time you,
Ah, ooh, I'm blue!
So how come you do me like you do?
I'm cryin'!

Beale Street Papa, I mean, don't you mess around with me,
There's plenty petting I can get in Tennessee,
I get my lovin' constantly, but not the kind you served to me,
So please, sweet papa, come back home!

Beale Street Papa, I mean, don't you mess around with me,
There's plenty petting I can get in Tennessee,
I bought a razor, rifle, rope and knife,
But if the police comes for you, baby, gonna save my life,
So Beale Street Papa, come back home!

Writer : ROBINSON, J. RUSSEL / TURK, ROY
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.