Quand la lune est rouge sang, rien ne va plus pour Dave Van Ronk, dans ce blues de sa composition. Sa femme ne veut pas de lui et le frappe. Vivement le lever du soleil. Il n’y a vraiment qu’à Brooklyn que l’on soit bien…

BLOOD RED MOON

Blood red moon is risin’, sun is fallin’ down.
Blood red moon is risin’, sun is fallin’ down.
Blues sittin’ on my shoulder, singin’ ’bout my last go-round.

Times are hard, hard times ain’t t’blame.
Good luck is trouble, trouble wouldn’t know my name.
Oh, that moon is risin’, givin’ me the evil eye,
And my woman told me, “You can kiss your ass good-bye.”

Blood red moon is risin’, sun is fallin’ down.
Blood red moon is risin’, sun is fallin’ down.
My woman told me she don’t want me around.

She took a 2×4, hit me up ’side my mouth,
I started running north, but my teeth were headed south.
That’s no way, baby, treat a lovin’ man.
Moon has made you crazy and my shit has hit the fan.

Blood red moon is risin’, sun is fallin’ down.
Blood red moon is risin’, sun is fallin’ down.
I got an idea my woman don’t want me around.

98 turned backward is number 89.
Turn trouble inside out, you’ll be doin’ fine.
22 turned backward is still a pair of twos,
And the blues turned backward ain’t nothin’ but the blues.
Ah, soon in the morning, rooster wake up the day,
Sun’s gonna rise, drive that blood red moon away.

I’m goin’ where that blood red moon can’t shine.
I’m goin’ where that blood red moon can’t shine.
I believe I’ll go back home to Brooklyn,
Where I’m lucky all the time.