I know Harlem can't be heaven 'Cause New York is right down here on earth I know Harlem can't be heaven New York is right down here on earth But it's headquarters for brown-skinned angels From ev'rywhere else in this world
I feel sorry for policmen The Doctor walk a Halem beat Yes, I feel for policemen The Doctor walk a Harlem beat The po' man can't keep his mind on his business Wit' all them angels on the street
Plain lookin' women live out in the country 'Cause folks just don't want 'em 'round Plain lookin' women live out in the country 'Cause nobody just don't want 'em 'round When ya find a ugly woman, livin' in Harlem She's either rich or from some other town
'Play the blues, John Davis!'
(piano & bass)
'That's what I'm talkin' bout'
'Ah, that's what I mean!'
'Oh, look at ya, look at ya!'
'Come here landlady, look what this man done!'
I know blues singers don't go to heaven 'Cause Gabriel boss them out *Ooo-ooo! I know blues singers don't go to heaven 'Cause Gabriel boss them out But all the good ones go to Harlem And help them angels beat it out.