The Panic Is On

What is this country coming to,
Some would like to know,
If they don't do something bye and bye,
The rich will live and the poor will die,
Doggone, I mean the panic is on.

Can't get no work, can't draw no pay,
Things are worse, each day,
Nothing to eat, no place to sleep,
All night long, folks are walking the street,
Doggone, I mean the panic is on.

All them landlords done raised the rent,
Folks are badly bent,
Where they gets the dough from, goodness knows,
But if they don't prouce it—in the street they go...

Some play numbers, some read your mind,
Rackets of all kinds.
Some trimming corns offa people's feet,
They gotta do something to make ends meet...

Some women selling apples, some selling pie,
Selling gin and rye,
Some selling socks to support their man,
In fact, some are selling everything they can...

I've pawned clothes, pawned my everything,
Pawned my watch and ring.
Pawned my razor but not my gun,
So if luck don't changem there'll be some stealing done